


Beyond the Sea

by SuedeScripture



Series: Beyond the Sea Universe [1]
Category: Actor RPF, Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-14
Updated: 2006-08-25
Packaged: 2017-10-19 21:06:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 89,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/205223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuedeScripture/pseuds/SuedeScripture
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dominic is an overworked, emotionally drained social worker on a much needed holiday. Billy may just be the free spirit he needs to learn to live again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Meet Dom.

_February 4th, Saturday  
Forest Hills, Queens, NYC  
1:22pm_

A hard thwack to the back of his thigh woke him with a jolt, shortly followed by an intense whoosh of blood inside his skull. Dom moaned feebly as he rolled over on his back and immediately regretted it, as it woke his stomach and liver and the several shots of Jack Daniels he’d poured down his throat the evening before.

“Wha’ fuck...” he managed, squeezing his eyes shut against the light. The pain in his head progressed to a steady throb.

“Exactly. Get up, fucker. You’re not gonna mope around in bed another day.”

Dominic rue the day he’d ever given Sean a key to his flat. Another few minutes of poking, smacking and dragging had him in the bathroom emptying Jack into the toilet. He pulled on a pair of sweat bottoms before stumbling to the kitchenette. Sean had brought strong black coffee from the Starbucks down the block, and set a glass of water and three aspirin tablets across the work top. Dom took them gratefully and rested his pounding head on folded arms in an attempt to block the searing brightness of the snow-covered city outside. His eyes felt like used tennis balls: huge, fuzzy and beat to shit.

“Chris and I are taking the girls down to the ice skating rink this afternoon,” Sean mentioned, sipping his own espresso, “I thought you might want to come with.”

“Nngh.”

“Allie’s been asking to see you all week...”

“Mm.”

“...and I kinda told her maybe this weekend.”

Dom huffed a sigh.

“Will you fucking stop?” Sean’s words had risen to exasperation, a rarity in his normally stoic nature. Dom lifted his head a few inches to meet his gaze. Sean’s eyes sparked with indignation, lips thin and tight together, but it melted into worry as he looked away. Sean had never been able to maintain anger without his heart getting in the way. His voice had softened when he spoke again, “Look. It’s been days since the service. We’re lucky Cate’s let us off this long. Especially you, with that trip finally coming up you’ve been planning forever...”

“I’m not going,” Dom interrupted, voice scratchy.

“...What?”

“I’m going to cancel. I’ll phone the travel agency Monday morning.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Sean asked incredulously, “It’s... Dom, you can’t.... You won’t get a full refund when it’s only two weeks away.”

Dom closed his eyes and pressed the cool water glass to his forehead, mumbling, “I don’t care.”

Sean was quiet for about fifteen seconds before his determination took over. “No.”

“Yes, Sean.”

“Goddamnit, Dominic. You’re going on this fucking trip, so help me God. I haven’t listened to you go on and on about this for six years for you to throw everything away just because Shiloh’s dead now.”

The water glass slammed to the table top with a solid thunk as Dom’s sunken gaze shot daggers at his best friend. Sean winced and looked down quickly, “Sorry. Just...” he sighed and collected himself, “I miss her too, okay? And I’m as pissed as you about it. It was our case, together. Don’t think I’m not feeling it just as much as you. But there’s nothing else we can do, okay? It’s in the Justice Department’s hands now.”

“Yeah, a fat lot of good they’ve been,” Dom spat sarcastically, then picked up his coffee and took it to the living area, jerking the curtains shut and slumping onto the sofa.

“Just remember you’re not the only one who cared, all right?”

“Go home Sean. You’ve got girls to take skating.”

“Fuck you.”

Dom waved a dismissive hand.

Sean still wouldn’t leave. “You’re going. If I have to carry your overworked ass onto the plane and strap you in myself, you’re taking this fucking cruise, Dom. I mean it.”

“Give kisses to Allie and Lizzie for me,” Dom said, staring dully at the television. It was off.

“Don’t ignore me, Dominic.”

“Chris too.”

“At least I’m trying to move on,” Sean grated out, and the apartment door slammed behind him.

“You’ve got more reasons to bother,” Dom rebuffed under his breath.

He hadn’t thought it would hit him this hard. Hell, he’d dealt with plenty of other cases and managed himself well, even right out of grad school. He had Sean as a partner to look up to, who’d been in the bureau longer and went home to the picture perfect wife and kids at night after seeing some of the atrocities they processed. He’d had his own upbringing in the shakier areas of Manchester to harden him. He had Dr. Blanchett, fire and ice in one tough-as-nails bitch, with over a decade of criminal law under her belt before she’d gone into the finer points of social work. She’d been a mentor as well as a superior, but she’d also been a friend. Her words still rang in his ears from one of his first cases when he’d got himself too involved. _I’m not telling you not to care, Monaghan!_ she’d yelled, her hard Connecticut accent shutting him up and making him backpedal quick, _I want you to care. The federal government pays you to care. But I am telling you now, and you had better fucking well mark my words... Do. Not. Get. Attached._

He’d been fine on countless other cases and from the simple to severe. This was his career choice, and he knew it would be hard coming in with his psychology and sociology degrees, prime recommendations from the university, daring to jump at the chance for an inner city position in Queens where the pressure was high. Do not get attached. Care, but don’t love. And he’d gone two years internship and four more as a case worker without a hitch.

Until Shiloh. And now she was dead, her stepfather all but walking on technicality and two years of his work dedicated to her welfare had been chewed up and spit out by the motherfucking system. Now it was out of his hands, nothing but a file with a polaroid paperclipped to the top, a little girl with big brown eyes an a toothless smile that should have negated the bruises all over her skinny arms and shoulders.

  
 _February 6th, Monday  
8:16am_

  
Dominic stowed his briefcase under his desk and tossed his coat over the back of his chair, straightening his tie at a disapproving look from Cate at the door of her office, either as a result of his tardiness or his hungover appearance. Strategically placed in his inbox was the Lonely Planet: New Zealand guide he’d read until it was battered, the paperback spine broken into favorite chapters. He rolled his eyes and looked up at his partner’s desk, where Sean was dutifully ignoring him while he filled out paperwork. He had loaned the book to Christine several weeks ago.

“Nice try,” Dom grumbled.

“You’re going,” Sean shot back resolutely.

“Hrmph,” Dom thumbed through his address book until he found the listing for his travel agent. Pulling the phone out of the cradle, he punched out the number and waited.

“Walsh International Travel, this is Fran, where can we take you today?”

Sean shuffled his file folders loudly.

“Yes, this is Dom Monaghan. Listen, I need to cancel my plans. All of them,” he spoke firmly.

There was a sound of fingers tapping keys before a substantial pause. “Ah... Mr. Monaghan. Yes. Erm... Cancel? Your plans?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Another loaded few seconds and a shaky breath later, “Sir, you _do_ realize that at this point the majority of your payment is no longer refundable?”

“I’m aware of that.”

Fran sounded extremely nervous, “That’s well in excess of ten thousand dollars, sir.”

Yes it was. A rather substantial chunk of his savings to be exact. Money he’d hoarded for this sole purpose since he was sixteen, waiting tables at a greasy all night cafe and chatting happily to any paying customer that would listen about where he’d be spending that cash, someday. Dom sighed, “Yes. I know.”

“Sir, I know it’s not my place, but I must urge you to take advantage of this. You did save quite a lot for the early booking of the cruise, and our quarterly discount on your travel services. This is one of the best packages you can buy, and that’s a lot of money to lose on a vacation of this caliber. Oceanic Cruise Lines has one of the finest reputations in the business, and their South Pacific tour is highly acclaimed. I’ll look into how much of a refund we’d be looking at, but I’m afraid it will be a quite a loss.”

Dom’s fingers had flipped aimlessly to the color photo of sunset over the volcano at Rotorua, and the harbor in Wellington on the mirroring page, and worried a chapped spot on his lip.

Fran’s soft voice came back over the line, “Perhaps you might take another day or two to reconsider?”

Dom brushed a hand over his eyes and stuttered, “Perhaps.”

When he rung off he could see the triumphant glee crinkling the skin around Sean’s eyes, shook his head and grunted, “Bugger off.”

Sean said nothing, pen scratching away on his paperwork.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contrary to use of a fictional international travel company associated with impending doom and Bernard Hill as ship’s captain, this story will bear no resemblance to _Titanic_. I swear.

_February 19th, Sunday  
Auckland, New Zealand  
5:30pm_

“Dinner will begin shortly after the ship embarks in the Restaurant on Deck Three, open seating of course, and there will be a show in the Indigo Lounge on Deck Eight beginning at eight o’clock.”

The steward was American, which was somewhat surprising, wide-eyed, peach faced and eager. He seemed to Dom exceedingly young to be this far away from home. He also looked fetching in the high-waisted white jacket over pressed black trousers that all of the staff and crew wore some variation of, placing Dominic’s rucksack by the wardrobe where his luggage had already been set. The lad discreetly straightened a stray wrinkle in the corner of the duvet as if to hide the imperfection.

“You’ll find an itinerary, maps and schedule of ship events and inland tours in your guidebook here on the desk,” he continued, clearly reciting lines, “We ask that you fill out your Personal Survey so that we may be sure of when you prefer not to be disturbed for the duration of your stay. Just place it in your message box when you have finished. May I bring you anything before we depart, sir?”

Dom looked out the large picture window of his suite, currently overlooking the bay.

“Sir?”

“Hmm? No. Thanks.”

“May I ask when you anticipate retiring this evening for turn-down service?” the steward asked next.

Dom turned and eyed him apprehensively, unsure of what might happen if he didn’t particularly want anything, but to sit and collect himself for a few seconds. “Don’t worry about it,” he said quietly. “I’ll just put it on the survey thing, yeah?”

The steward nodded, moving to the suite’s door and fixing Dom with a direct gaze, “Welcome aboard the Kismet, Mr. Monaghan. If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to call for service.”

Dom blew out a long slow breath and sank to the edge of the bed after the door shut. The last two days had been a whirlwind of rushing, followed by long periods of boredom. Sean had insisted on driving him to the airport and seeing him off. _If you don’t come back in a better mood, I’ll pay you to take another vacation,_ he’d threatened as they’d hugged goodbye. _You need this, man._

The flight had been long and uncomfortable. There had been two connections, several delays, the rereading an old book, an in-flight movie he’d never had time to see when it had come out in theaters months before, and thanks to flying coach (since even then the ticket had cost a grand and then some), lack of sleep. Time left over to work himself into another state of guilt and self-deprecation, and more booze to quell it. The airline drinks were small, watered down and overpriced, and Dom didn’t have the motivation to charm the flight attendants into mixing him something useful.

He’d collapsed in the first cheap motel the driver had come across in Auckland, passing out for hours as jetlag set in. When he woke, muscles stiff and having slept in the same clothes he’d been wearing for two days, he’d found he had only a few hours before he was meant to board the ship. He had briefly considered just booking another flight home, but remembered that Sean would probably flay him alive if he showed back up. Sean was responsible for watering his plants, so it would be hard to just hide in his flat and pretend he’d been gone.

He had sat at the pier watching other passengers, onlookers and crew mill about, checking luggage and making ready with the massive yacht at port. It was a glittering spectacle beside the private sailboats, shipping tankers and tugboats. It occurred to him that he could probably sell his boarding pass right here for some obscene amount of cash and just disappear into New Zealand under a pseudonym, just for the thrill of pretending he wasn’t himself, but a man with no responsibility whatever. He’d travel by foot with nothing but his rucksack and sleep under the stars in the wild, or in sheep sheds. He’d nearly laughed at that one.

Dom’s suite was on the low end of what the ship had to offer, but as posh as any five star hotel just the same. The queen-sized bed was piled high with decorative pillows, with a sitting nook by the five foot wide window, a spacious bathroom with a large bathtub and shower. It was furnished with a flat-screen TV, video/DVD player, and a Bose stereo that put his own system at home to shame. There was also fully-stocked mini bar that would do nicely for holing up and going for a fifteen-day-long piss binge to drown his sorrows. Could’ve done that at home though.

He opted for a shower to rid himself of of the sticky feel of travel grime. The water was hot, refreshing and the pressure hard enough to merit staying in longer than usual, then dressed in slacks and a button down shirt. Might as well at least look like he was worthy of the trip. By the time he’d wandered back to the Main Deck, the ship was pulling out of the bay and heading toward the open ocean.

Dominic leaned against a section of railing apart from the excited groups of other vacationers. Sea birds squawked and bickered in the air as he watched the landmass float away. A shipman approached and asked if he’d like a beverage, which he declined. He glanced at his watch, still set to New York time. 1:27am.

It had been twenty-one days since Shiloh had died.

       
_Cate called them in early to finalize reports, give the police any other information, and hand over the case. Dom had gone through the motions, signed off on appropriate forms, but Sean had done most of the talking. They finished up late and it was well into the night after Christine insisted on inviting him over for a homecooked meal, and Sean tucked his eldest into bed while Dom waited outside the door in the darkened hall._

 _"Something happened today, huh Daddy? Something bad," Alexandra noted._

 _Sean tucked her teddy in bed with her. "Is it that obvious, sweetie?"_

 _"Mommy only makes cake for someone’s birthday, or when something bad happens and all the grown-ups talk really quiet," she told him._

 _Sean was a trooper. He was a misfit sometimes, got inappropriately jealous and cocky about little things, but when it came to dealing with people significantly more screwed up than himself, he was a saint. He was also brutally honest with his girls, and would tell them the world was not all sunshine and roses in ways Dominic couldn’t even fathom. Where Dom would have protected and hidden, Sean would expose and explain and compare, perhaps only to convince himself that his kids would be ready when they went off into the big bad world._

 _"You know how Daddy and Uncle Dommie help kids at our job? A lot of times bad people hurt those kids. And we try to make the bad people go to jail and keep the kids from getting hurt anymore. But sometimes we can’t keep the bad people in jail, even if we try really hard."_

 _Allie was also too smart for her own good, just as Shiloh had been. "Did a bad person hurt that little girl you told Mommy about before?"_

 _Sean hesitated, but maintained his voice, "Yes. And you know you should have been in bed when I was telling Mommy about that."_

 _"Is she okay?"_

 _"Well, she was hurt really bad, hon. The doctors tried to make her better, but they couldn’t help her, and she died."_

 _"Like Rosco?" The comparison was unexpected. The family dog had died some years ago, and Allie had been barely four years old at the time._

 _"Yeah. And nobody can hurt her anymore."_

 _"I bet Rosco’s with her now though," Allie said with certainty in her voice. "He’ll keep her safe for always."_

 _Sean dropped a kiss on her forehead, "Yeah sweetie. He will."_

 _It hadn’t been until Sean had shut her bedroom door and they settled in the living room that Dom let the emotional brick shithouse he’d built around himself and this case come crashing down. There you are, Sean. Your eight-year-old took it all just fine. Your twenty-seven year old partner... not so much._

Jerking his head up at the sound of someone’s delighted laughter, he took in several gulps of salty sea air and swallowed the lump threatening in his throat. He looked around to see groups of friends and couples enjoying drinks, posing for photos taken by a sharply dressed ship photographer, waving and chatting together without a care in the world for their real lives, whatever those might be.

A solitary cormorant had followed the ship out, curious and scrutinizing, some twenty feet out and gliding almost at eye level. It seemed to be studying him with its beady black eye, asking him what the hell he was doing there if he wasn’t acting happy like the rest of them.

Dom chided himself. The fucking bird wasn’t asking him anything. The bird was probably hoping he might throw a bit of rubbish off the deck for it to eat. He pressed the tiny hour button on his watch down with a fingernail until it skipped sixteen hours ahead, 6:31pm.

  
 _7:22 pm_

  
The grilled seabass was immaculately prepared with asparagus spears and bechamel, but he couldn’t muster enough appetite to do more than pick at it. He returned to his room, slipped in a CD and settled with a notepad and the guidebook. Checking off the tours he wanted to attend, he picked up the phone to get his name down in the groups. And just for shits and giggles he scheduled an appointment in the ship’s salon for a massage and manicure. Oh hell, and a facial too. _Just for you, Sean._

Funny thing was that Sean could be found in a salon far more often; he didn’t have time to be the metrosexual Sean used to delight in calling him. Besides, money saved clipping his own toenails was money he was sitting on right at the moment. _You're perched on your life savings, your teenage dream of this holiday, Monaghan. You’d better fucking well enjoy it._ Maybe he should have finished that fish dinner after all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dom spends a day being reminded of what a mess he's become.

_February 20th, Monday  
en route to Tauranga, New Zealand  
12:54 am_

Dom woke to a dark room with images from the same recurrent dream pounding through his head. Flashes like polaroids of bruised and bloodied skin and teddy bears and mountains of paperwork, the smirking face of Shiloh’s stepfather, enveloped in a growing pang of dread and guilt and rage.

He sat up to the throb of blood in his head from back to front and swallowed several times against the bile that threatened in his throat. He stumbled to the bathroom and tried to throw up, but nothing came. He’d probably consumed more alcohol than food in the last three days anyhow, but this wasn’t a hangover.

The water from the sink was cool and slick against his parched face and throat. He bent awkwardly to drink from the bathroom tap, ignoring the stabbing ache it caused to twist his head down to reach. He took several gulps and splashed his face before going back to bed.

Twenty minutes of shuffling and tossing proved that the least painful position was to sit completely upright. _Fucking fantastic,_ he thought irritably, _I_ would _get a migraine on holiday._

He searched through his bags and found he’d neglected to pack any sort of painkillers, though he had remembered to bring the empty bottle for the pills he’d been prescribed just for this recurrent problem. Grudgingly, he reached the phone on the end table.

“Good morning Mr. Monaghan, this is Jennifer, how may I help you?”

Jennifer was entirely too cheery for fuck o’clock in the morning, but Dom was thankful someone would answer in the middle of the night. “I need... ah, some aspirin or Imitrex or... I dunno, a loaded pistol or something. Please.”

“Do you need a doctor, sir?”

“No, no doctor, just painkillers. Something. I have a headache.”

“We have aspirin or paracematol, a few different types,” Jennifer listed them off of a directory, “Arthritis, tension headache, sinus headache, migraine...”

“That one. The last one.”

“Right away sir, an attendant will be up in just a few minutes,” she answered happily, and a little too loudly before he put the phone down. He wondered if she’d really have that gun sent up if he’d asked.

A small eternity passed before a soft knock announced the arrival of salvation, and he dragged himself to the door. Squinting at the light in the hallway, he made out the blurry face of the young American again, bearing a tray. “Sir, your m–”

Dom took the water glass and the little plastic cup of pills and swallowed them down, then set the glass back on the silver tray and shut the door on the eager face and starched white jacket and the too fucking bright light.

  
 _Tauranga, New Zealand  
10:48 am_

  
The headache was blissfully gone. Dom was left with post-pain endorphines that mirrored being high on a really knocked down level. It still felt good and he was rested, more so than he had been in some time. He showered, shaved and put on some music before using the service phone and asking another happily disembodied voice (this one named Richard) for a coffee. He flipped through the guidebook to the pages he’d skipped earlier on ship entertainment, scanning over film showings in the Midnight Club and the musical group in the Indigo Lounge, or an open mike comedy hour in the Fortune Cafe. He shook his head, amused at the careful, concise naming of every specific part of the ship in the guide, capitalized in bold text and color-coded to match its proper area on the ship diagram on the first page.

The coffee arrived and Dom opened his door to the very same steward wheeling the coffee service into the room.

“Cream and sugar?” the boy asked, eyes alert, bright and ever-ready like that goddamned energizer bunny.

“No, thanks,” he answered, eying him warily. The American kids he knew weren’t like this. Granted, Dom’s typical dealings with them weren’t exactly the greatest examples. The older ones he’d dealt with were often disgruntled and hard-edged, and had a habit of shrugging off help until they came of age and were no longer under the system’s control anyway. But this one took etiquette to a weird level.

“Do you ever sleep?” Dom asked, “Or take care of other people, or something?”

The steward shrugged, pouring the coffee into the fine china marked with the ship’s logo, “Fourteen hour shifts, with long breaks every few hours. I’m in charge of six rooms in this section, all the people in those rooms. Half the people on the ship are crew, and about a quarter of us exist to bring you coffee and Advil, or whatever else you might want. Sir.” The boy dropped his eyes, cleared his throat and straightened the already neat pile of napkins on the cart, giving Dom the impression he thought maybe he’d overstepped his bounds and said too much, or used the wrong words.

“So you’re up for any twat who has a headache in the middle of the night, or was that lucky timing?” Dom teased without expecting an answer.

The steward met his eyes briefly, before methodically refolding a cloth napkin again, “The Kismet’s a lucky ship,” he spoke quietly.

It was blatantly a scripted line, and Dom snorted. “Have you got a name?”

“Wood, sir.” He pointed to the small brass badge on his lapel.

Dom folded his arms and looked at him hard to cut the shit.

“Elijah.”

Dom crossed to the desk, dug in his jacket pockets for his wallet and thumbed out a few bills, “For last night. I was a bit out of it.”

A smile twitched at the corners of the kid’s mouth, and he mumbled as though stifling the words, “I’m not supposed to take tips.”

“Who's gonna tell?” Dom arched a brow, “Come on mate, I was a pain in the arse. Take it.”

The smile widened and Elijah pocketed the money, eying the door, “I’ve dealt with worse. You’re easy.”

As he turned the coffee service back toward the door, Dom wondered how a kid this age dealt with himself in a closed environment like this. Wondered if this one shacked up with Jennifer or Richard in the belly of this yacht at night for comfort and to satisfy his needs. Wondered if the fourteen hours of bringing arthritis rub and liquor to the rich bastards and elderly couples that made up the bulk of the passenger population didn’t get tiresome. He sighed and inhaled the rich coffee aroma from his cup. It all came back to work eventually, except this Elijah dealt with happy vacationers, not abused children.

The boy lingered by the foot of the bed and glanced back. Even with Dom watching, he boldly flipped a page back through Dom’s binder of CDs that lay open on the duvet. “If you’re up late, you might think about going down to the Midnight Club at the stern of this deck,” he said, allowing a more casual note to slip into his tone, “If you don’t have a headache, that is.”

Dom glanced back at the guidebook that lay open on the desk. “This says the films only run until eleven-thirty.”

“You’re right, they do. My mistake.” Elijah flashed a mischievious grin, wheeling the cart out the door and into the hall, “Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything else, sir.”

Huh. Dom blinked as the door closed after him.

Glancing at the clock, he realized with irritation that he’d missed the tour bus inland that the cruiseline had arranged for day trips at each port. The Waitomo Glow Worm Caves had been high on his list to see, lit up with bioluminescent bug larvae until the whole cavern glowed. He thought about taking a taxi, but it was two hours from Tauranga to the cave site, and then another two back. Renting a car would be about as much as the cab fare, and his spending budget just wasn’t big enough to warrant that, especially when he didn’t know how much he might need later. He sighed and drained his coffee.

In the sunlit, open air Fortune Cafe, he ate breakfast and scanned through the local papers that were provided. Front page news was calmer here, more along the lines of city elections and local festivals rather than the latest bout of violence or high publicity trials he was used to back home. Around the room other passengers chattered while they ate, sampling each other’s food, making jokes with the wait staff and so on.

Dom looked on and found himself wishing for Sean and his family, even Lizzie, who was now discovering the fun of disagreeing with everything and throwing tantrums when she didn’t get her way. This wasn’t Disney Cruiselines though, not at all designed for young kids, and Sean hadn’t the money for this sort of thing when he had the whole family to take care of. That Dom had the funds was only the result of scrupulous saving for what had seemed like forever.

A gruff voice jerking him out of his contemplation. “And how are you this morning, sir?”

Dom looked up to see the bearded, red-faced Captain Hill, who had greeted all the passengers as they’d boarded. He had a commanding air about him in general, the type of man who could probably bark orders whether he wore the uniform or a t-shirt and jeans. Dom stuttered out a reply, “Erm, fine. Good.” _Noticing I’m possibly the only lone bugger on your cruise, but fine. Good._

“Enjoying your brunch?”

“Yeah.”

“And how do you find the ship? Your rooms are sufficient? Are you enjoying the entertainment? Are all your needs satisfied?”

Dom felt a bit interrogated, “Erm, yeah, the room’s fine... great, actually. Satisfying. But I haven’t really... been to any entertainment stuff yet.”

“Good! Wonderful. Well, might I recommend the music in the Indigo Lounge this and each evening if you haven’t seen it? Our pianist is world class. We’ve a good singer as well. Fine group. There’s also dancing if you have a lady friend, or if you meet one, eh?”

“Mmm,” Dom nodded curtly, “I’ll think about it. Thanks.”

The Captain nodded and moved on to the next table, which responded with significantly more enthusiasm. Dom wiped his mouth and took off.

Past the pool and down the Main Deck he came across the Salon. He’d made his appointment for later in the week, but what the hell.

“Hello! What can I do for you, sir?” the woman behind the counter was soft spoken, but had a megawatt smile to make up for it.

“I missed my bus.”

She blinked but the smile held, and he rephrased, “I have an appointment for later on, but I missed the inland bus and I wondered if...”

“You’re bored already?” she asked, lowering her lashes a bit, “Well, we can’t have that, can we? I’m bored too. Not many appointments just yet.”

She glanced down at her schedule, which was indeed pretty empty. Scanning the list, she guessed, “Mr. Monaghan, manicure, facial and massage?”

He nodded, “Dom. Dominic, but Dom.”

“I’m Liv,” she smiled, “I can do the hands and the facial, but I’ll need to call Miranda in for that massage, if you want that too.”

“The manicure’s just fine, really.”

Settling him into a chair, she got to work on his hands, arching a flirty brow, “So, any fun reasons why you missed that bus?”

He sighed, watching her fingers work around his, “Not unless migraines are your idea of fun.”

She flinched in empathy, “Ugh, that’s too bad. Lavender’s good for that. If you go ashore in Gisborne, there are some nurseries that sell oils and things. Help you relax a bit.”

Dom nodded politely. She was beyond sweet and quite lovely, with big red lips and that soft American voice that made it hard not to sit and watch her lips make the sounds. Dom got the sneaking feeling she knew all about that as well, but she was a demure sort of flirt. Probably fed this to all the blokes aboard. Probably how she got the job in the first place.

“What are you going to do with the days at sea coming up?” she asked, “Lots to do on the ship.”

Dom shrugged, “Dunno really. Be lazy. Eat good food. Read a bit. Listen to my CD’s.”

“Well, there’s lots of things you could do outside of your rooms, silly. There’s the pool, or the casino if you like cards, or the gym which is right across the hall there. Our trainer Karl is fantastic, and he teaches yoga too if you don’t want his nose-to-the-grindstone cardio workout. And if you like music, you can check out the Indigo.”

Dom shook his head in amusement.

“Ah, _there’s_ a smile,” she teased, “What?”

Dom met her questioning eyes, “It's just... you’re the second person to tell me that in as many hours.”

“It’s a bit of fun though, instead of just moping around. I cover for the front man sometimes, just on his nights off.”

“You’re a singer?” he perked.

She blushed prettily, “No. Well, it’s sort of in the family, but not really. Nails and hair are my usual gig.” She concentrated hard on the nail of his ring finger.

“So what do you do in the big wide world, Dominic?” she asked next.

Dom shifted. “I... I’m a teacher.”

“Really? What age?”

“Ah... elementary school. In the states. New York.”

“I bet that’s wonderful. I love kids.”

“...Yeah.”

She moved on to chattering about her sister and cousins and Dom politely nodded and hummed in false interest she finished up and they said their goodbyes. Outside the salon he found himself glancing into the gym where he could see a man too easily identified as the trainer adjusting a weight machine through the glass windows, and then purposefully strode in to ask (no, beg) for an impromptu yoga session.

He’d never felt so socially inept. Or to put it more clearly, he just didn’t notice how withdrawn he’d become over the last two years until now. All of his usual haunts had been given up for the office, or kicked from that, the cold comfort of his flat. When the hell had he lost his touch? His sense of humor? Used to be he had a multitude of friends and easily made more with his witty jokes and banter, went out regularly, danced, drank, fucked around more often than not. Sean used to worry that he’d never settle down. It couldn’t have been that long ago, but it felt like a bloody eternity. Everyone on this ship was accommodating, friendly, gave the appearance of genuine happiness. But it also seemed like he was paying them to be that way, paying them to bring him manufactured contentment in the form of being waited on. None of it was real.

  
 _9:36pm_

  
It had been some years since he’d done yoga. It had helped settle his mind and he set about walking around each deck starting at the bottom from the Restaurant after dinner. If this place was fake, at least the it was done up sparing no expense.

As he rounded the top of the staircase on the topmost deck, light was shining through a double set of glass doors across the hall. Flanked by a doorman, each door was etched with designs reminiscent of Art Nouveau, twisting tree shapes and a large crescent moon on the right, with a woman in gowns blowing a handful of stars into the sky. Above the doors in an arched glass panel was frosted the words in scripty text _The Indigo Lounge_.

On the wall by the door was a sign in a matching script:

  
_**Oceanic Cruiselines**  
proudly presents  
The Indigo Lounge Quartet  
featuring  
Ian McKellan  
(piano)  
Andrew Serkis  
(saxophone)  
John Noble  
(bass)  
and  
William Boyd  
(vocals)_   


Dom peered through the glass. The lounge was brightly lit against the dark sky outside, contained almost entirely in glass but for the bar. Cushy white chairs sat around cocktail tables with burnished brass accents. A bar man mixed drinks before a wall of sparkling glasses and back-lit liquor bottles. In the middle was a dance floor and bandstand with a massive white grand piano.

Dom took a few steps forward and a doorman opened the doors with a smile, though Dom hung back. He could hear the murmur and laughter of the patrons and the chink of drink glasses on tables, the melody of the piano and the thump of the bass, and a clear smooth voice belting out _Luck be a Lady_ from within the lounge, warm and inviting, just like everything else on this ship.

He glanced down at himself — in his favorite button down he’d had so long it was worn velvet soft and thin in the shoulders, and a pair of loose cargos he’d neglected to change from after his session with the trainer — and then back inside. Men wore at the very least blazers and slacks, and ladies their best dresses. The band was dressed to the nines in traditional tuxes. The doorman (in the smart crewman’s jacket with brass buttons) continued to hold the door without a trace of irritation at this hesitant passenger and an eldery couple obliged him as they headed to the elevators. Dom backed off, feeling painfully out of place.

Outside on the deck, he leaned against the rail as the last creamy glow of sunset slipped past the horizon. Years ago when he’d planned this trip it had been about something. He’d imagined himself in this very position, gazing out at the open ocean with complete contentment in his heart. He had images of happiness, fulfillment of one of his life’s goals, like graduating with honours in both degrees, getting that job that supposedly made a difference. This was supposed to be the culmination of his success, his reward for getting through it and being someone to be proud of.

Now that the moment was here, he’d never expected it to feel so empty.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Determined to have fun, Dom goes to the Lounge and meets someone intriguing. Cap'n! The angst has fallen overboard! *wink*

_February 21st, Tuesday  
Gisborne, New Zealand  
11:47 am_

The arbors of Eastwoodhill were like natural sanctuaries, though many of the trees had been imported from all over the world and allowed to flourish in the temperate climate of the New Zealand wine country. The canopies above were awash with all shades of midsummer green, mossy to dark, with sprinklings of red and gold and pink flowered azaleas. Cedars mingled with relatives from Japan to California, intermingled with ironwood and birch and oak, all coexisting in one place as though they belonged. Central Park didn’t even come close to the splendor of this place.

Dom wandered among weeping alders along the edge of a pond, smooth as a mirror save the ripples made by insects and waterfowl. There was a time long ago that he’d be climbing the trees and catching bugs and frogs at the water’s edge with the legs of his trousers rolled up. He would even now, but figured the tour group would find that odd. Normally he’d say fuck ‘em and do it anyway, but there just wasn’t any fun in it if there wasn’t an equally immature person to share the experience with.

Perhaps that was why he’d chosen to work with kids, as a desperate attempt to cling to his youth. Kids never questioned that sort of thing, even from an adult. Kids, at least young ones, saw everything in terms of fun and boring, not old and young. He’d play pretend with Allie in the park while Sean and Chris continued to be adults and mind the toddler. They’d act out her favorite stories, fighting dragons and discovering treasure. Dom adored Allie, loved and envied her, a little girl who lived a relatively privileged life. Sean may do his best to show Allie the real world, but she was still innocent at heart.

Shiloh was different. Possibly from any other child he’d ever known. Most kids in her situation were completely withdrawn, trusted no one, not least him. _Social Worker_ was a bad word, a disgusting name to some of them. These people took them away from their families, separated siblings and parents, even though that was often times for the best. They made them talk about deep rooted secrets and brought the hurt back to the surface.

Shiloh had known hunger and pain and worst of all, she had understood true fear. Monsters and the bogeyman were mere stories in books and on TV, but Shiloh’s monster had been real, and her dark eyes held knowledge of pain far beyond what any eight year old should ever know. Never before had a scared, abused child run into Dom’s arms instead of away when he had explained the she’d be going away from her home for a while. She trusted him after he promised to keep her stepfather away, even forgave him when that promise was broken. Never had his appearance at her foster homes, in her therapy session, at the hospital failed to make her smile. Even to the last time he saw her, doped up on pain medication and barely conscious, he'd given her a lolly and told her again about the Other Side of the World, a magical place where unicorns and selkies lived, and that someday she’d go there. She did her best to try to smile, and he did his best to return it without crumbling.

He’d broken all the rules. _Do not mix your personal life with theirs. Do not make promises you can’t keep. Do not get attached._

Dom picked up a flat chunk of basalt and tossed it along the mirror of water with a flick of his wrist, watching it skip seven... eight times before it sank. Across the pond, the trees rustled in the breeze, leaves twirling and sparking in the sun, petals fluttering from lilac bushes across the pathways. It was the kind of forest where unicorns _would_ live, if they’d ever been real in the first place.

The voices of the tour group had fallen away and he took a last look around before jogging to catch up.

  
 _9:41pm_

  
Dom pulled on his suit jacket and rebuttoned the second button on his shirt as a couple in their sixties came from the elevator in their best clothes and nodded to the doorman of The Indigo Lounge. Dom followed, nodding purposefully to the man as well.

Maybe it had been something Liv said yesterday about having fun outside of his own suite. Maybe it was a harried attempt to prove to himself that he could still be social despite the fact none of the people here were really the type of people he preferred to hang out with. Maybe it was fear of having the Captain ask him again if he was having a good time and not having the balls to make up another lie. He was showered and shaved and standing here in his classiest suit knowing full well that he looked damn good, and tonight he was going to get his edge back. Or die trying. Or probably just have a few drinks and then run off to the safety of Suite 206.

The Indigo was even more stunning from the inside, designed as if the dark sky outside was its compliment, wrapped around the room like a blanket and holding in all the sparkle. The acoustics should have been off with the set up but sounded lovely, the piano tinkling away at a jazzed up version of _I Only Eyes For You_ with the bass thumping away and the sax trailing lazy notes throughout.

Dom crossed the room slowly, avoiding cocktail waitresses and patrons, and let his eyes fall on the singer. The man was surprisingly small, with his reddish hair carefully combed, tux pressed to perfection, face nothing extraordinary. Good voice though, rich and full and bigger than he was.

Dom turned to the bar and settled himself on a stool.

“What’ll you have, sir?”

The bartender, now he was something to look at, a large but proportional guy with squinty green eyes, sandy hair and a smile that could level a room. Dom might have considered nudging the man about the Sheffield pin he spotted on the dishcloth tucked in his belt loop, but held it back on the pretense that sport debate wasn’t one of his strong points. It was damn near impossible to follow games in the states, and he hadn’t bothered in some time anyhow. There had been an embarrassing incident several months ago when he’d discovered the hard way that Becks wasn’t actually playing for Man U anymore, and it wasn’t something he cared to repeat.

“Whiskey Sour. Make it two.”

“Right up, mate,” the bar man grinned. “You look like you need more than one.”

Dom returned with a twitched smile. Maybe he didn’t look as hot as he’d thought. His hair was brushing his eyelashes in an annoying way and he swept it off to the side irritably. He wondered idly if Liv did haircuts too, and took a refreshing gulp of his Sour.

The room was warm with the motion of people and Dom rose to remove his jacket, draping it over his stool as he watched the bar man prepare drinks and flash his brilliant grin at the other patrons. The first several notes of another song wafted from the bandstand and a rumble of sudden laughter rose through the crowd. Dom turned and scanned the room to see the singer pulling a blushing and giggling considerably older woman to the dance floor with the cordless mike in hand.

“Here’s what ropes them in here every night, mate,” came the voice of the bar man behind him in an affectionate tone, “Watch that little bugger slather on the charm.”

If the bluesy notes of the song weren’t instantly recognizable, the lyrics were.

 _It’s late in the evening  
She’s wondering what clothes to wear..._

The lady was taller than he, but it seemed to make no difference as he sang, leading her in a slow, one-handed dance while she continued to blush fiercely and shoot looks at her group of acquaintances. The singer was smooth enough to take her faulty missteps in stride and make them part of his performance, always smiling at her as the words were sweetly harmonized by the sax in the background. This was all about the woman, but Dom wasn't watching her.

By the third verse she’d had enough and the singer spoke through the mike over the music, skipping the verse altogether, “Friends, Mister Rhys-Davies here tells me that tonight is his and Deborah’s thirty-fifth anniversary. Let's give them a round of applause for sticking it out this long!”

Dom clapped politely with the rest, more intrigued by the Glaswegian accent. Christ, how many different places did the crew on this boat come from?

The singer backed off to the bandstand as the large man who was clearly the lady’s husband lumbered onto the dance floor, and continued with the song’s last verse.

Dom turned back to the bar and ordered a third Sour. He’d gone with Sean and Christine to a Clapton concert once, early on when they’d first begun working with each other. The two of them had danced as well when that song was played, along every other couple in the auditorium while Dom stood off to the side feeling like a third wheel. It had a tendency to make a guy undeniably aware of being alone.

In truth, it had been some time since Dom had been interested in dating. The last time he’d been with anyone had been several months ago, and that hadn’t been more than a hand job in a parked car behind a pub. The last potential relationship didn’t really bear mentioning, since it had ended when he’d spent several nights in a row at work trying to straighten out the mess of legalities with Shiloh’s first foster family, along with ending a particularly ugly high profile case concerning one of New York’s more well known business tycoons.

As the night wore on, Dom abandoned the Sours for beer and listened to the crooning voice of the lounge singer. It wove in and out with his thoughts as the other patrons and wait staff came and went, the bar man serving them any number of drinks with little umbrellas and fruity garnishes. At one point the now famed Mr. Rhys-Davies downed several vodka shots and clapped Dom heartily on the back, congratulating him for God knows what, before being dragged off by the missus.

Dom was moderately tipsy and warm and working into another state of wondering what he was doing here when he should be back home doing something useful. The crowd was beginning to disperse as he wandered away from the bar and out another set of double doors to the coolness of the night outside.

That was the other thing about this trip. In his mind, there had always been a faceless Someone there to share it with. When he was at the university there had been Jon, the first man he’d had a long term relationship with, standing in for that face for about a year. Aside from that, he’d never thought of anyone save maybe Sean, and then the trip took on a much more sort of Buddy Vacation vibe. The problem with that was that Sean had always had Christine and Allie, and then Lizzie came along, and the Just-Us-Guys trip idea went down the toilet. Sean wouldn't have come anyway, but just occasionally he had filled the role of Someone in Dom's imagination. Not that he'd ever tell him that. Sean was the most tolerant best friend a guy could ask for though, he probably wouldn't care. Much.

The sounds of the piano filtered through the glass and Dom glanced back to find the pianist still playing away, oblivious to the fact that most of his audience had gone to bed. The singer had stripped off his jacket and tie, sipping what looked to be a scotch and chatting animatedly with the bartender.

That was the whole thing really, this whole trip was off balance with all its perfect food and perfect people and perfect happiness. He felt like the only prat here that wasn’t getting his ten grand worth. Or he was, he just couldn’t bring himself to enjoy it. He felt displaced and very, very alone. Dom sighed and pulled out his mobile. A familiar voice would be welcome, but he knew his phone wouldn’t work out here. He carried it only because the weight of it in his pocket was so ingrained in his head that he felt almost lost without it.

He flipped the phone open and thumbed through the numbers, wondering who he’d want to talk to if he could. Not Sean. Sean would only want to hear how great things were and what an amazing time he was having, because he wouldn’t take _I’m not having fun_ for an answer. Then he’d put Allie on the line (it must be early morning there), and he’d have to ask her about getting ready for school, what she learned in her riding lessons, all the other things little girls ought to grow up doing. Mum was out. She’d ask how work was, constantly looking for confirmation that her son’s career choice was the _right_ one for him. And he doubted his father would have anything to say about anything, seeing as they hadn’t really talked about much past the weather since Dom had come out to his family shortly before moving to the States. His brother. Heh. Matt wouldn’t let him get a word in at all. Matt would be a friendly voice that wouldn’t shut up about his own issues, his girlfriends, his jobs, his beat up car. Matt would be fantastic.

Dom clapped the phone shut dejectedly and considered pitching it into the ocean. Maybe he could get off at the next port and just wander away from everything. But it was a full day of nothing but sea to Christchurch.

“Don’t usually get reception out here,” said an immediately distinctive voice. Part of Dom’s psyche wished he was in a better mood, while the rest of him steeled for more of the cheery banter typical of these crew people before turning to look at the intruder.

The lounge singer held out Dom’s charcoal jacket, “You left that at the bar. I didn’t know if you were coming back in, so...”

“Thanks.” Dom took it, but opted to leave it off in favor of the comfortable breeze.

“The ship phones ought to work. There’s one in the lounge, if you like.”

Dom shook his head and kept his eyes on the phone in his hand, “Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t important anyway.”

The other man uncuffed his shirt sleeves and leaned with his back against the rail, looking along the mostly empty deck for some time before turning back. “It’s odd to see someone your age alone on one of these,” he commented. It had a nonchalant conversational ring to it, but it struck Dom that this one didn’t seem the type to speak without reason. Perhaps he thought Dom born into money, or one of those upstart internet tech blokes his age and younger that suddenly had more money that they knew what to do with. Whatever it was, it rubbed him backwards.

“How do you know I’m alone?”

The Scot shrugged, unfazed by the accusatory tone, “I don’t. But most passengers come with friends, partners. Spouses. And they’re usually happy to be here. Don’t walk around with their baggage.”

Dom snorted at the play on words, “What are you, ship’s counselor as well? Moonlighting sort of a thing?”

“Sometimes, if the occasion calls for it,” he hadn’t stopped with the vaguely amused and somehow compassionate grin, “But nah, you’ll need to see Bean, the bar man in there, if you really need someone to unload on.”

Dom searched the man’s green eyes, looking for condescension or pity and finding none. Christ, he must be coming off as the world’s most defensive prick. He pocketed the cell phone and extended a hand, “I’m Dominic. You’re William.”

“Billy,” the Scot shook with a firm grip for small, delicate hands. He leaned over conspiratorially and waggled his eyebrows, “They prefer I use William on stage. More proper, I suppose.” The sarcasm was tangible and Dom’s frown threatened to break.

“So,” Dom spoke after a few moments, turning back to the railing and leaning over to see the deck below, “Are you going to ask me why I’m here?” It was a pitiful attempt at conversation, but it was all he had.

The singer turned his eyes on him again, matte jade and with a knowing gleam that was slightly disconcerting. He shook his head once and said, “You’re here for the same reason as anyone else. To run away from your real life.”

Dom watched the black, choppy waves. That was true, of course. All the years he’d planned this, the reason had been to see the country in the most elaborate way possible, but he felt in some way removed from the experience. It didn’t feel like a holiday anymore. More like an excuse, an involuntary leave of absence from responsibility. Alice in Wonderland with the acute awareness that this was all fabricated and the real world loomed just beyond the water, where the guilt he harbored would be reflected in the faces of anyone who knew what a failure he was. Not particularly caring if Billy heard or not, he mumbled, “I think my real life followed me here.”

“Funny how it does that,” the Scot murmured in understanding. He gazed at him for a moment longer before pushing off the rail and turning on his heel. “Walk with me?” he asked.

“Where?”

“I want to show you something.”

He led Dom down the deck until they reached the the Sun Terrace at the very stern of the ship. It was roped off for the night, but Billy simply unhooked the clip and led Dom to the end behind numerous chairs and sunning beds. Aside from the whir of the engines and the slapping of waves in the ship’s wake, it was dark and quiet, set away from the active nighttime areas. Billy surprised him by dropping to the deck and stretching out on the polished wood itself. He gestured Dom to do the same beside him. Dom tossed his jacket on a nearby chair, lay down and shifted until he was comfortable, then looked up and gasped at the sight.

“You see? No place else can you see all these stars but on the ocean, away from everything,” Billy’s voice was little more than a whisper, but seemed to carry under the massive dome of the sky. They were so clear that belts and clusters could be seen, some bright and milky, others just dim pinpricks in black velvet.

At length there came a deep rumble, so low frequency it was nearly imperceptible to the ear, but rather felt deep in the chest. Like distant thunder, but there wasn’t a cloud to be seen for miles.

Dom drew breath to whisper, “What—”

“Shh,” Billy cut him off gently, “Just listen. Feel it.”

Dom stilled himself, straining his ears to try and hear more clearly. A few minutes later the rumble returned, a barely there vibration through the whole of the ship. The sound strengthened as it went on and rose in pitch, ending in a high but muffled whistle. In came from off to the right and below. Astonishment lit on his face when he realized what it was. “Oh!”

“Whales,” Billy confirmed, “Right whales. It’s a bit late in the summer for them too. I thought they might have gone on by now.”

“Can we see them?”

“Probably not. You almost never see them surface, but at night, when it’s quiet like this...” Billy inhaled deeply and tucked an arm behind his head, closing his eyes and continuing softly, “Sometimes I think they do it to remind us how small we are.”

Another barely there rumble validated the words, and Dom rolled his head to look at the man beside him. There was only a sliver of moon, but it was enough to cast a silvery glow on his lightly freckled skin. The breeze ruffled through the chestnut hair, mussing it from the slick nightclub perfection. Dom watched his chest steadily rise and fall and found his own breath matching it, the air absolutely clean, crisp, salty and alive. He wondered why — of all the people on this boat — this one was talking to him like a human right from the getgo, instead of a corporately operated drone at his every beck and call. For a horrifying moment he considered the possibility that this _was_ all part of the package, paid for and non-refundable, because this was different, this felt unforced. He hitched up on his elbows, looking the singer over shamelessly. With his tuxedo shirt loose and collar unbuttoned, a greenstone pendant that had been hidden now nestled in the hollow of his throat, this man seemed more real than anyone else he’d encountered thus far. Billy’s eyes opened and returned his gaze.

Dom felt himself clutching at time. He hadn’t had one of these in ages, a moment that seemed to mean something deeper than the rest. There was a flutter somewhere under his ribs, but it escalated into a painful pinch and he sat up abruptly, turning away and grudgingly let it pass.

Bill shuffled behind him, standing up, “Ought to get out of here before I get us both in trouble,” he said with a hint of mischievousness and handed Dom his jacket for a second time, before clearing his throat and switching to professional mode, “The Casino and the Midnight Club are open most of the night, or the Library or...”

Dom stifled a yawn that wasn’t entirely real, edginess setting in. “I think I may just turn in,” he said, a contradictory need to run overruling his previous desire to stay and let that meaningful moment try to come round one more time. Going for a cheeky, he covered his bases, “Not used to all this service, not having to wipe my own arse and all. It’s exhausting.” _Lame, Monaghan._

Billy smiled, tucking in his shirt and smoothing it importantly, “Aye, it’s that,” He bowed with a glint in his eye, “Might I escort you to your suite, sir? She’s a large ship. Quite easy to get lost, you know.”

Dom rolled his eyes and started back toward the stairs, “I liked you better before you went all servile on me,” he paused looked over his shoulder with a crooked grin, “but you can still walk me back.”

They made the trek to Deck Five in amiable silence, but when they reached the door of his suite, Dom shuffled self-consciously, “I... erm. I don’t know the rules of this. Should I tip you, or something?”

“What for?”

Dom dropped his eyes to his feet and settled on the high shine of Billy’s wingtips instead. Feeling awkward, he murmured, “For making me feel better.”

When he dared to look up, he found the lounge singer smiling widely, not manufactured-for-your-service, but real to the eyes and making unique little wrinkles at the sides of his nose. He tilted his head and leaned in just a hair for emphasis, “That was free of charge. Goodnight, Dominic.”

He then tucked his small hands casually in his pockets and with a last nod, turned and walked away.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dom doesn't like playing games.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is graphics intensive. If they don't work, please let me know, as it won't make sense without them.

_February 22nd, Wednesday  
At Sea, En Route to Christchurch, New Zealand  
9:30 am_

Dom woke, showered and called for his coffee. The sun and sea outside the window didn’t erase the singer from his head. In a dream Billy had danced with Mr. Rhys-Davies, then with the bartender, and then with the captain on the Sun Terrace, but not with Dom. He’d only looked at him with that infallible, unreadable smile. The images flashed in his mind while he brushed his teeth and shaved, and he found himself looking at his reflection in the mirror and wondering why the Scot’s voice was crawling around beneath his skin. He hadn’t spoken or sung in the dream though it was his voice in the background singing, warm and clear. He’d danced and stared with those eyes that seemed to know more secrets than Dom kept himself.

“Morning, sir,” Elijah smiled when Dom opened the door for him to wheel in the coffee cart. The youth prepared the coffee as usual and with it, handed Dom an envelope. “That was in your message box this morning. I took the liberty to bring it up for you.”

Dom set down his coffee quickly to grab the envelope. A dozen things went through his head as he hastily ripped it open. The only person who knew he was here was Sean, and Sean would have had to write this the day he left for it to get here by now, and Sean would have called the ship’s international line if there was a crisis, right? If something happened with the case or the girls he’d call, he wouldn’t bother if it wasn’t an emergency, and...

Inside was a postcard bearing the Oceanic Logo, just like the stack of cards that had been provided in the desk where he sat. There was no name, only a note in a neat, cursive hand:

Dom blinked and read it again. “I don’t think this is mine,” he told Elijah, holding it out, though the envelope in his other hand was plainly addressed with his name and room number.

“It was in your box, sir,” Elijah state simply, refolding napkins.

Dom glanced over it another time. “Do you know who put it in there?”

Dom looked up when the young steward didn’t answer directly. That picture-of-innocence face had dropped away, replaced with something challenging, the slightest curl of a smile. “If I knew,” he spoke carefully, “I _would_ tell you. Sir.”

He was beginning to wonder if he’d possibly not woke up from that bizarre dream, and was in some fucked-up lucid state of unconsciousness where Semisonic lyrics showed up in crap poetry and the cute steward suddenly developed a personality. He dragged a nail over the inside of his wrist. It hurt.

Dom knew the two middle lines had been lifted from a song he’d listened to in the last few days. He’d listened to it on a whim, possibly for the first time since it came out some years back. Stupid sappy album, _All About Chemistry_. And who the hell misspells _would_ , when they had spelled _should_ and _could_ just f-... hang on.

He read it again. Wood. Elijah. Creepy steward who apparently never slept. He’d even been there to bring the coffee when the stupid song was playing, and had looked at the CD binder.

“Elijah... did you write this?”

The boy was steadfast, even stopping his obsessive napkin folding and crossing his arms, “No.”

Dom glared at him for several moments. It was nearly like dealing with teenagers, the ones who lied with angel faces and just didn’t give a shit if you could tell or not. They wouldn’t break for anything.

“But you know who did,” Dom told him firmly. He wasn’t in any sort of a mood to play this game. The dynamic here had changed and it wasn’t fucking supposed to do that.

Elijah said nothing. His face remained unchanged with gloating eyes and curling mouth all wrapped in the perfect shiny package with the perfectly creased trousers and perfectly polished brass and his perfect little name on his perfect little name tag.

Dom’s eyes fell on the brass pin on the boy’s lapel where his name was engraved.

“Give me your name tag,” he commanded, using the voice reserved for the kids that thought they were big and threatening.

Elijah lowered his eyelids just a fraction, lips curled a little more, and he spoke in a low, soft voice that suggested he wasn’t intimidated by Dom’s tactics in the slightest, “I think you should come get it.”

 _Well_.

Dom was taken aback. This little prat had bent over backwards waiting on him for the past three days to bring him whatever the hell he fancied, whenever and wherever he wanted it, and now he launches this defiant little passive-aggressive act?

That wasn’t really true. It’s not as though Dom had called for help every time he was too lazy to get up to reach his beer or anything like that. The kid had even said it, _I’ve dealt with worse. You’re easy_.

Suddenly that statement took on a whole new meaning. Dom stepped forward and the boy obligingly backed himself into the closet door. A freight train had only a bit more subtlety.

Up close, Elijah smelled faintly of cloves and the designer shampoo the cruise line provided. His eyes never left Dom’s face, and the smirk never left his own. Dom glared at him and got a triumphant little thrill when the boy startled and blushed as Dom abruptly lifted his hand to the pin on his chest. Dom had other ideas though.

“I’m not _that_ easy,” he whispered as his fingers folded the lapel back. Stuck in the pin backing was a bit of tissue paper, folded into a tiny square and taped on. He pulled it carefully to break the tape seal on the pin. Holding it up at eye level, he looked at Elijah with a hint of threat, “D'you harass all the blokes on the ship or am I just special?”

The smirk dropped off Elijah’s face and he arched a brow, “Says the guy who’s got me backed up against a wall. Don’t kill the messenger, man.”

Dom backed off, sitting on a corner of the mattress while Elijah straightened his jacket, muttering “Sheesh,” under his breath. Dom unfolded the fragile paper and read:

Dom read it again and sighed. _I don’t want to play this stupid game,_ he thought irritably. He hadn’t an inkling of what he’d spend the day doing, and given there was nothing but sea to Christchurch. The only thing that had him getting out of bed this morning was the need to piss and the grumble in his stomach. And the dream that kept repeating itself.

“What’s that thing say anyway?” Elijah asked, turning the coffee service cart toward the door.

Dom folded it back up and stuck it in his pocket, eying the boy warily, “You tell me who wrote it, and I’ll tell you what it says.”

Elijah opened his mouth and then shut it again, exhaling his annoyance as his eyes cut to Dom, all shades of pretense dropped. “Just play along, Dom. Okay? It might be good for you.”

Then he pushed the cart out the door and shut it behind him.

Dom stared after him. The kid had never called him anything other than _Sir_ or _Mr. Monaghan_ before, and had never left the room without reciting his required lines. He’d never spoken with such plain honesty in his voice either.

 _10:41am_

Dom went up to the Fortune Cafe to have breakfast, keeping an eye out in case the Captain planned to question him again. _Oi, Nemo, some weirdo’s got me playing a guessing game on your ship. Is this part of the package? Do I win a prize?_

He picked at his eggs while he looked at the note again. So the bird was the clue, that much was obvious, and the rest was just... He didn’t know what to think. He’d just spent the previous evening grumbling about being lonely, then in the company of a singer who was strangely intriguing and weird enough to be the one behind this nonsense. Billy was unnerving though, mysterious and slick and confident. Unreal. Which was stupid, he’d only thought just last night that he was the most real person here. Somewhere between last night and when Dom woke this morning, Billy had become some untouchable mythical figure, and that pissed Dom off to no end. Dom wasn’t the sort who put people on pedestals. Everyone should be within a reachable distance.

He thought back if he’d seen a bird. There was the cormorant he’d seen the night he left. Other than that, he couldn’t recall any birds.

He left the cafe and went outside. If he’d see any birds they’d be perched on whatever was available. He looked to the tops of the buildings where birds might congregate, but there were none. He wandered past the doors of the Indigo Lounge pausing to study the etched glass for any bird designs. Nothing.

“Is everything all right, sir?”

Dom looked up to find himself face to face with the ship’s first mate, and Australian with eyebrows sharp enough to cut tile. He stuttered and looked away, “Ah, no. Yeah.”

“Sir?”

“Hey, this is a stupid question, but does anyone on the ship have a pet bird? Like a parrot or something like that?”

The man clasped his hands and thought for a moment, “I don’t believe so, sir. Pets generally aren’t allowed on board. But I suppose it’s possible one hitched a ride from the mainland.”

“Oh.”

“There may be a book or a video on parrots in our library if—”

“No, that’s all right,” Dom cut him off quickly, “Thanks anyway.”

 _Jesus_ , he thought as he ducked into the nearest lift and hit the next floor down. This was just ridiculous, a scavenger hunt leading to... fuck if he knew what. To hell with it. _Not playing your bloody game, Billy. Or whoever._

In the bright hall, he peered through the windows of the gym to see of Karl was busy, thinking another session of yoga would be fantastic, or barring that, a good hard hour on the elliptical and maybe a hot tub afterwards.

The sound of knocking on glass behind him spun him round as Liv pulled open the door, waving him inside, “Come in? I’ve got some free time, and I could fit you in for... something.”

He balked, “Erm. That’s all right, Liv, I'm thinking of going for a run actually.”

“Please? Just for a minute. I have something I think you might like,” She smiled sweetly. Too sweetly.

Once in the salon, she gave him a small glass bottle of lavender oil, complete with a little dropper inside, “I went ashore in Gisborne and I remembered your headache problem, so, I thought... you know.” She paused and cleared her throat, “And also, this too.”

Dom was just about to tell her he couldn’t accept the gift when she pulled an envelope from behind the desk, and his heart gave a funny twitch. Then it connected in his mind. _A familiar bird has your next clue. Jesus Christ, I’m an idiot. That or I’ve been in the States way too long._

“Liv, who gave this to you?” he asked before opening it.

Her eyes stared at it and then flicked up to him, “Oh, I don’t know her really, but it was one of the waitresses, I think.”

“One of the cocktail girls from the Indigo?” he grilled.

“Maybe. Well no, I think she might just work in the Cafe and the Restaurant, but I don’t know for sure. Her name’s Heidi or Halli or something similar,” She shrugged apologetically. “I haven't been on the Kismet very long. I worked on the Karma before. The gal just told me I’m suppose to give it to you if I saw you today.”

Dom sighed and looked down at the envelope, with his name plainly in the same neat handwriting as before, “Liv, do you know who’s doing this? Writing me these notes, I mean.”

She shook her head, “No. Why? Did you get other notes?”

“Yeah. One in my room and one... ehm, in my room.”

“Ooh,” she grinned, “Maybe you have a secret admirer!”

Dom rolled his eyes. _I don’t want games and I don’t want admirers. I’ve got twelve days left on this damn boat until I can just go back to being myself._

“Aw. Just have fun, eh? You keep looking like you’re constipated and the Captain’s gonna march you right down to the Doc for an enema himself.”

“What!?”

She giggled at his stricken reaction, “Nothing. It was a joke. But seriously, Bernard gets miffed if he thinks any of the passengers aren’t happy, and then _we’re_ the one’s who get a talking to. So have some fun Dominic, okay? For me?”

She batted her lashes and he gave in, “Yeah Liv, I’ll try.”

He was nearly out the door when she spoke again, “Hey, why don’t you come to the Indigo tonight?”

Dom’s defenses went back up, “Why?”

She gave her patented shy down-up glance, “The singer asked me to cover. Said he was busy with something.”

 _Yeah. He’s too busy irritating me with silly notes._ “Sure, I’ll come.”

In the hall he thumbed open the envelope and pulled out another postcard:

Dom smiled at that. At least he can admit his poetry’s either stolen or rubbish. Shakespeare must have turned full circle in his grave by now. Doves and crows, back to damn birds again. Dom hadn’t found so much as a seagull, much less a dove or a crow.

He read that last line again and wondered if he ought to run back to his room to see if he’d find Elijah stuffing notes in his shoes. It was probably too late to catch him in the act.

Dom stopped and leaned against the wall. Didn’t he just talk himself out of playing this damned game? Yes. He ought to just find the daft Scot and call him out. _You’re transparent Billy,_ he thought.

About this game maybe, but in truth, the lounge singer was one hell of a mystery. Maybe there had been a moment, out there on the deck last night. Maybe it had been in his head. Maybe the stars had bent the light and made it look as if Billy was possibly maybe sort of a little interested, when in reality he was just looking back at Dom because Dom was staring at him, and blokes don’t stare at each other like that. Maybe Dom was just a lonely bugger who got caught up in a presumably romantic moment and read too much into it. It wouldn’t be the first time.

And yet, here was the postcard quoting bloody _Romeo and Juliet_ , supposed most romantic of all romantic tragedies, assigned to pubescent teens in Literature in order to get social stereotypes running full steam ahead. He glanced down at the note again. Maybe it wasn’t the birds. Maybe it was the Bard?

 _There may be a book or a video on parrots in our library_ , the Australian had said, only fifteen minutes ago. If they have books on birds, surely...

Dom pounded the down button on lift, and when it didn’t come fast enough, ran for the stairs pausing just for a moment to look at the framed plan of the ship posted just next to the stair entrance.

The Library was small, crammed between the ship’s Souvenir Boutique and the Casino. He scanned shelves quickly until he found what he was looking for, and old paperback copy of _The Complete Works of William Shakespeare_.

 _William_ , he thought snidely, _Any more plays on words, Billy? I’m not sure you can rhyme Boyd with anything._

He flipped through the heavy paperback. Near the middle, a scrap of notebook paper fell from between the thin pages and fluttered to the floor between his shoes.

Dom laughed right out loud, stooping to pick it up.

“Sleepy, Billy,” he murmured to himself, “ That one’s too simple.”

He pushed the book back into its space on the shelf and headed back out to the stairs, right back to the the top deck and the Indigo Lounge.

Peering through the glass doors, the Lounge appeared to be closed, lights off with no movement within. He tried the door and found it open. Whether or not it was supposed to be locked was probably part of this crazy plan. Dom wondered exactly how many people Billy (or whoever) had roped into this little plot. Elijah, Liv, some waitress, possibly even the first mate and countless others.

Dom paused, letting the door pull itself closed again. If this was the end, Billy (or whoever) would be in here, right? So, what would he say? _You’re cracked, Billy. I hope they pay you well for this. Why me?_

Dom chewed his lip and looked at the latest note without really seeing it. Part of him was mentally adding on the ‘or whoever’ because he hoped it wasn’t Billy, maybe just some tart he’d entertain for a bit and then let down easy and be done with it. He could do that, had done it. Felt guilty about it, but what’s a guy gonna do? But Billy was quiet and strange and saw the world from this perfect bubble in the middle of the South Pacific. Billy was kind and surreal and not quite tangible. Billy had not been easily scraped off last night and probably wouldn’t be in the future. Billy was...

Dom exhaled shakily. Billy was scary, because the other part of Dom wished it would be him. Billy had been tormenting Dom since the moment he had said their parting words. All soft eyes and casual grace and genuine smile, words spoken slowly, purposely rolling them around in his mouth like he was tasting them, getting used to the sound of them, setting up house amongst them. _Goodnight, Dominic_.

He took a deep breath, pulled open the door and went inside.

“Hullo?” he called out softly, feeling like a naughty child sneaking around where he shouldn’t be. No one answered. His neck prickled as he scanned the room, walked quietly over to peek behind the bar to be sure there wasn’t a surprise party behind the counter. Nothing.

He stole over to the grand piano on the bandstand. The white enamel shone in the sunlight outside, imposing and perfectly at home in the middle of this room. He slowly and quietly lifted open the cover and slid his fingers over the keys without depressing them. The last time he’d played had been... he chided himself. How many times had he thought such things since this trip began? He shook his head and winced as his finger accidentally pressed too hard and E-Flat rang out in the silence of the room.

The last time he had played, albeit clumsily, had been at Shiloh’s second foster home a year ago. He’d never been very good himself, but he had taught her something simple like _Twinkle Twinkle Little Star_ , and four months later when he’d come to take her back to her mother, he found she had taught herself a simplified version of _Für Elise_ by ear, which she enthusiastically performed for him and Sean while her foster mother packed her things.

Dom didn’t have a secret life, as the poem suggested. He went to work everyday, did what he thought was right, then he came home, rinsed and repeated. Billy sang and danced and led people on silly games of Clue, and probably did it all over again when the next group of happy vacationers boarded the ship. Billy didn’t know that Dom wasn’t a high society entrepreneur and Dom didn’t intend to tell him otherwise. Billy probably thought he was a lot more interesting than he really was, and Dom already knew that Billy was here being paid a bundle to entertain the rich and retiring. Transparent. So there had been a moment. Maybe. So what?

 _11:09pm_

Dom stood outside the Lounge once again, so different now than it was during the day, voices and laughter and music and the artificial glow of fluorescent light instead of sun. He’s spent half an hour trying to decide between the dark blue or silver grey shirt beneath his jacket, and another ten minutes pulling at all his ties before doing away with them completely in favor of his silver chain. He look himself over in the mirror: silver grey shirt, silver chain, slate jacket. Not quite light or dark but muddled and in between. _Because nothing is just black and white, Billy, no matter what you think. Certainly not me._

Dom smirked at his own pointless symbolism. He was only going because he’d promised Liv he would, and he always did try to keep his promises. He would go and graciously watch the girl perform a song or two, because after all she’d been nice to him, and honest. No games. Dom never had liked games much.

Even so, he forgot to acknowledge the doorman that welcomed him as he entered the Lounge, nervously searching the crowded room.

Liv was far from her pretty business-like uniform and neat ponytail tonight, but rather poured into a slick satin floorlength number with a slit cut right up the side, with dark waves of her hair cascading down her shoulders. He smiled when he caught her eye, and nodded appreciatively. Another glance about the room indicated the number of men in the audience was rather drastically outnumbering the women, and more ladies appeared to be leaving own their own. Mr. Rhys-Davies was enjoying a scotch and the show, while the missus was distinctly absent.

Dom made his way to the bar stool he’d claimed the previous night. Had it only been one night? Dom rubbed his eyes. The dream had stretched it into many. He glanced back around carefully. Billy was not here. He breathed a sigh of... was it relief or regret?

“Liv’s up to her Breathless Mahoney act, mate,” the bartender’s voice gravelled over his shoulder.

Dom turned and caught the back end of Bean's signature grin. The big man’s eyes cast downward to the bar purposefully and then back before he moved to refill Mr. Rhys-Davies' vodka. Dom looked down before him and found his Whiskey Sour already there, twist of lemon zest curling the top of the glass and a neat cocktail napkin beneath. Dom smiled, picked up the glass and wondered if Bean was as good a listener as Billy’d said he was.

His drink stopped a centimeter before it met his lips, his stomach giving a heavy lurch. He picked up the napkin.

Dom shot a quick glance around the room again, thoroughly irritated at this paranoid feeling that someone had to be watching him. His eyes settled on the bar man who was paying serious attention to Mr. Rhys-Davies, and ignoring Dom completely. Dom huffed grouchily and stared at the clue and glanced at his watch. It wouldn’t be midnight for another half hour. Unless...

Dom thought back the other clues, how bird had meant _bird_ , and Wood/would. Midnight. The Midnight Club.

The Midnight Club was the theater where films were screened and little One Acts were performed. Dom clearly remembered that the guide book had said it closed at 11:30. But then Elijah had hinted otherwise.

He took a gulp of the Sour, made a face and then headed for the door, stuffing the slightly soggy napkin in his pocket.

Dom slowed as he rounded the corner of the Computer Center. A very large, very intimidating Maori man stood before the doors with his arms crossed. Dom glanced around nervously, confused as to exactly why a cruise ship with no young kids would require a bouncer quite this imposing.

“Right,” said the huge man gruffly, “What’s the password?”

“Er,” Dom stumbled. Shit. He hadn’t thought of that. He stalked down here like hellfire bent on asking Billy what the fuck he was on about and maybe to piss off and let him have his vacation in peace. Now he was at the end of the bloody game and couldn't get in.

“Lawrence, you great bastard. He’s come all this way and you go and scare him off?”

Dom whipped around to find Billy, hands in his pockets as cool as everything, coming round the hallway on the other side of the ship, grinning like the cat with the canary.

The big man grinned right back and shrugged in the manner of a man who’s clearly playing right along, “Well, you told me the bloke with the ears and the wonky jaw. Didn’t mean to make him piss himself.”

Billy chuckled, “Yes, well it’s a wonder they let you out of the belly o’ this beast at all.”

“You,” Dom spat shakily.

“Aye,” The word was soft, and then smile went soft, and the eyes went soft. “So I kept you busy today, eh?”

“I...” Dom shut up and clamped his teeth. Somewhere, he’d had a lecture. He’d fully intended to give this little Scottish prick a few pieces of his mind, and that he fucking hated games, and he was buggered if he wasn’t getting off this damnable boat at the next port...

“Want to come in, Dominic? Have a drink?”

Dom shuffled his feet. The words had been there, hard and cutting on the tip of his tongue. But somewhere between the copper warmth of the singer’s gaze and the inviting tilt of his head towards the musical beat held within the heavy doors, the words melted clean away.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy has just led Dom on a game of Clue to get him to the Midnight Club. This club contains angst, not enough beer, dismally low self-worth, a few surprises and thorough abuse of references from the 30's, 70's, and 80's.

_February 23rd, Thursday  
At Sea, En Route to Christchurch, New Zealand  
12:02 am_

The bottle was damp and frigid against his palms. Billy had pulled two of them from a cooler by the door and led him to a table along the right hand side wall, where they’d both sat in silence as Dom looked around the room several times just to avoid getting this started. Whatever this was. He was still a bit shell shocked, not just from the somewhat feeble nightclub atmosphere in what was supposed to be a combination cinema and stage showroom, but just from the day in general. That Billy would lead him on a wild goose chase to culminate in sitting him down for a chat was a bit beyond Dom’s range of comprehension.

The theater’s set-up had been altered slightly. Some of the foremost tables and sofas were pushed back and arranged to make a small dance floor just before the small stage, where a DJ booth consisting of what was probably just a CD and MP3 player hooked up to the room’s sound system stood. The music was an early nineties techno mix and thankfully not near as loud as the sort of clubs Dom had frequented in New York, once upon a time.

“What do you think?” Billy asked, and Dom looked up to find him wearing that quiet expression and soft eyes.

Dom dropped his eyes to his beer once again, irritated with the awkward shyness he felt. Billy gave him the feeling he was expected to continue some sort of game, play a part, be someone important. He smirked at the stupidity of the whole situation, and answered honestly, “I think you could have just asked me.”

“You’d have said no,” the Scot smiled.

Dom chuckled nervously, “I don’t remember saying yes.”

It was a snarky thing to say, but Billy simply smiled wider and looked around the room. “This is where we unwind at the end of the day,” he explained. “It’s not in your little guidebook because most everyone here is crew. Though we don’t mind if the occasional passenger wanders in.”

Dom knitted his brows, confused, “So, the line arranges this sort of thing?”

“Ah... no,” Billy grinned. “But what corporate doesn’t know won’t kill them.”

Dom offered a half-grin back, “Why Mr. Boyd, that’s illegal. I could report you all to the captain, you know.”

“And should the captain find that unforgivable, the line would be out an entire crew for one of its three boats. They’d have to phone Carnival and beg for their leftovers.” Billy shot back with a knowing look, “I know Bernard seems like a stiff sometimes, but he’s a fun bloke if you get enough whiskey in him. And as long as the theater’s clean and working when it’s meant to, he looks the other way. Especially since it’s us who do the cleaning and the running of the whole place anyway.”

“And you’re sure no money changed hands for the privilege?” Dom countered.

“If it did, it wasn’t me. Traded my paychecks for a stateroom so I don’t have to hole up in the bunks with the rest of these slags. I sing for my supper, as it were.”

Dom stopped wiping a design in the condensation on his bottle, “You mean you don’t get paid money?”

“Nah.”

“Then what’s the point? How do you live?”

“The point is that I’m just a bloke from the hard edge of Glasgow and at the moment I’m living on a yacht in the South Pacific. I’ve got a roof overhead, good food whenever I like. I’ve got an audience, and barring that, a guitar. Until a few days ago, I didn’t think I needed anything more.”

Dom peeled the damp label from his bottle irritably. It wasn’t just that the singer seemed utterly content with his job, which technically wasn’t a job if he didn’t even take money. Part of it was the same happy nonchalance he continued on with as he spoke, as if nothing at all fazed him in the world. The rest was that Billy was fucking right. Who wouldn’t want such a lifestyle?

“I’ve been planning for this trip since I was sixteen,” he spoke on impulse, “Saving for it. Made the jump and bought the tickets and planned every fucking little thing to a T, except...”

Dom stopped, taking a swig of his drink. _Except what?_ he thought. Nothing was the way he thought it would be? He was too caught up in all the rubbish in his life to care about much else? Sure, it had been some morbid twist of fate that the shit would hit the fan right before he’d go for the Holiday to End All Holidays. _...now that I’m here I don’t know what to do with it._

Before he could finish, someone bounded around him and into the seat beside Billy, tackling him in what looked like a rather violent bear hug.

“Lij... yeh fucker, get off!”

They wrestled until the kid loosened his hold and set his chin on the Scot’s shoulder, flicking his eyes at Dom. “Got him wrapped around your finger yet?” he grinned, somewhat breathless.

“The fuck are you doing here?” Billy asked, ignoring the question.

“Aww, s’too bad, Bill. If I’d had another five minutes with him this morning, I’d have had him squirming around mine.”

Dom's eyebrows shot up beneath his hair.

Billy fixed a hard eye on the American, “Oh really. If you keep skiving the ends of your shifts, you’re going to get caught. Don’t expect me to cover for you after that last incident with the old Portuguese lady. That goes doubly for not wearing your uniform properly.” Elijah was still dressed in most of his work clothes, though trainers weren't part of it and the jacket was unbuttoned over a plain white vest. Dom noticed this seemed to be a trend among the patrons here, having ended their work shifts and couldn't be bothered to change.

The boy dropped a placating kiss on Billy’s nose, which contradicted the utterly wicked look he sported otherwise. “Is he here?” he asked, voice dropping to conspiratory tones so that Dom felt very much like a third wheel. Billy sighed and gave an idle head toss towards the dance floor.

“You need therapy, Lijah,” Billy told him, as though it was something he said every day.

Elijah’s smile widened and he took a swig of Billy’s beer, “That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it? Hopefully you’ll manage to pull the cob out of Dommie’s ass before we get to Fiji.”

“Dom,” Dom corrected, slightly thunderstruck at the audacity of the steward outside of his work.

Elijah ignored him, leaning up and scanning over the crowd. “Who the fuck let Craig DJ? Jesus...” and with that, he was gone as soon as he had appeared. Dom watched him push through the crowd and assault the man at the stereo.

“That was Elijah’s other personality, if you were wondering,” Billy said. Dom looked back and found Billy smiling rather exasperatedly after the kid.

“Have you known him long?”

“’Bout three years.”

“Is he always like that?”

“Well, no.” Billy shrugged, “He gets worked up, is all. Too much energy. Or caffeine, more like. You’ve seen him do what he’s trained to do. He put in four months butler training for this position, but he had to sign a three year contract to make up the cost.”

Billy watched Elijah – who was now manning the stereo – with a concerned sort of look. “He’s a good lad, though. Smart, older in his head than he is on paper, does his job better than most. Just got a crap hand that he’s paying for now. He’s scared. Don’t tell him I said that.”

Dom shook his head, not seeing Billy’s point, “He doesn’t seem scared. Why would he be?”

“His contract is up,” Billy explained. “After we drop you and this lot in Fiji, we go back to the base in Sydney and restaff. The ones who want to stay negotiate new contracts. The ones who don’t are on their own. Lijah made a bit of a mistake coming down here. To Australia, I mean. He’s got no money, certainly not enough to get home. The line helps him out with work visas and all that, but only as long as he stays on. He knows things would be easier for him back in the States. There’s a level of security here he’s afraid to leave, so he’s inventing reasons to stay. Not always the best reasons.”

“Hasn’t he got any family that can help him?” Dom asked, but as soon as the question left his mouth he knew it shouldn’t have. The steady softness in Billy’s face deepened to something darker, and he shook his head no. Dom flinched and looked away, chiding himself furiously for even thinking that the people here were immune to what he saw every day.

“Not everything’s what you might think, Dominic.” Dom looked up at the emphasis and Billy continued, “Not everything turns out the way you want. That’s life though. No such thing as a holiday from that. Even out here.”

 _I know that_ , Dom thought to himself, but as it sank in, he knew Billy meant for him to stop running from his problems and face them. The only thing was that it wasn’t something he’d ever been able to run from, the guilt he felt. His failure, and this wasted trip that had at one time meant so much.

He dropped his own eyes to the bottle as it twirled in his fingers, unable to maintain the eye contact. “Why are you doing this Billy? Why the game? Why me?”

“Oh, the game was for my own benefit,” Billy grinned, but then it softened. “The rest is just ‘cause I like you.”

It was as simple as that. Quiet words spoken in a matter-of-fact tone. Dom stared at his empty bottle, too terrified to look up and see the unabashed honesty he knew would be in Billy’s eyes. He wrenched his gaze to Elijah, just for something, _anything_ else to look at.

“Have you ever seen someone hurting and known – just known – you could make things better for them?” Billy added quietly.

Dom abandoned watching Elijah and just shut his eyes, shut the world out. He didn’t come here looking for a friend. _I always thought I’d be coming with one_. He didn’t need this sort of reality check. _I’m a fucking social worker, that’s_ my _job_. He didn’t deserve this. _Have you ever seen someone hurting and known you could help, and then failed, Billy?_

“So this is what you do, then? Find the sorriest looking bugger at the beginning of every go and fix him?” Dom said it without much conviction, and it sounded a little more like acceptance than he’d planned. Just the same, he didn’t open his eyes see what Billy had to smile about. Maybe he’d just fuck off.

In the midst of his own self-loathing he felt warm fingers touch the back of his own hand and startled at the shock of it, at being touched like this, with a purpose behind it. Soothing, affectionate, honest touch.

Eventually the warm hand pulled away, and Billy’s voice carried over the music, “The other night you asked me to ask you why you’re here. Maybe someday you’ll tell me the real reason, but not yet, Dom. Not until I’ve chipped away a bit of that shell you’re wearing.”

Dom curled the hand around his empty, naked bottle and dared a glance back up. Billy looked unperturbed as ever. His eyes darted over and to the right Dom’s shoulder.

“Look here now,” Billy gestured out to the crowd, leaning over the table to direct Dom’s view, “Uniform trousers, white shirt all unbuttoned, black curls, body like a fecking ballet dancer. See him?”

Dom caught sight of the man in question, “...yeah.” _Yeah. Wow._

“That,” intoned Billy, “Is this Love Boat’s version of Ace. Orlando, ship’s photographer. Maybe you’ve seen him snapping pictures?”

The connection clicked in Dom’s head, “I... yeah. But...”

“But you weren’t looking. Not really, right?”

Dom nodded. Orlando’s body moved like it only existed when the music did. And maybe it did, as Dom hadn’t noticed quite how beautiful a man he was when he’d been on the deck toting around cameras and equipment bags and addressing people with practiced politeness. Now, eyes closed, long hair clinging to the sweat on his forehead, he danced as though he’d been locked in a small cage all day, all pretenses of civilized demeanor thoroughly abandoned.

“That’s the one thing here Elijah’s clinging to, even though he knows it’s a bad idea,” Billy said, “Orlando’s an odd one. No one really knows a lot about him, and he’s a bit of a loner. Not to say people haven’t tried. He does his fourteen hours then he disappears, holes up in his bunk. Then he comes here.”

Dom’s eyes went back to the DJ booth, and found an unfamiliar man spinning where the boy had been a few minutes before, “What’s that got to do with Elijah?”

Billy pointed back to the photographer. As the beautiful man danced, Elijah suddenly appeared behind him, eyes locked on and luminous, tongue between his teeth. No sooner had Dom’s mouth dropped open that Elijah pounced, gripping the taller man’s hips and pressing himself against his back, falling right into his rhythm. A grin broke on the photographer’s face, and he reached back to the boy’s forearms to hold him there. Billy answered, “Everything.”

Dom tore his eyes away to look at the singer. Billy continued to watch the two with a concerned look. “Why do you know so much about it?” Dom asked him pointedly, “Why do you care?”

“I know because I’m the one Lij comes to when the night’s over. And I care because the little tick’s like a brother almost,” Billy looked back at him. “He’s young Dom, but he’s the most determined little cunt I’ve ever come across. He exists for a challenge. He could probably manipulate his way into the fucking CEO’s pants if he wanted. No doubt he’s given it a go on you already?” He didn’t wait for an answer before going on, gesturing back to Orlando, “That’s the one that gets away. They look happy now, but when it’s done, Orli pulls his trousers back on and goes back to his own bunk. Elijah's so used to having everyone in his pocket that he didn't expect to fall for the only one who can walk away from those baby blues without feeling the sting. Now he's so arse-over-tits that he’s thinking it’ll be worth it to sign another contract.”

“And Ace has no intentions of sticking around,” Dom deduced.

“Exactly. So Lij has twelve days to the end of his contract to make up his mind, or Orli’s. Is it worth it?”

Dom shrugged, “It’s his business. Let him work it out.”

“Yes, but that’s not what I’m asking,” Billy shook his head, “Elijah’s got less than a fortnight to make Orlando see that he’s for real, that Orli’s being a complete cunt for using him, or he walks away from what might have been. I don’t have any say in this Dom. Whatever you might think, I’ve not fixed anyone but my own sorry arse. So what would you do? Would you sit in the corner and pine away, or would you get out there and dance?”

Dom opened his mouth and closed it again. It had been so long since he’d considered such a thing that he had to think pretty far back to a time when he even had time to pursue it. Back when he’d gone out to bars and clubs, not on the prowl, but old enough to want to find someone for more than a lay. Dom had always been a bit of a romantic at heart, and once upon a time he’d been all for taking chances. He tapped the bottle’s thick glass base on the table and shrugged, “I’d dance, I suppose.”

“All right, then,” Billy said, standing up and holding a hand out, “Let’s go.”

Dom looked up dumbly, a wash of complete surprise flooding him, “You’re not serious.”

“As a trainwreck,” Billy smiled down at him, the dimness of the room making deep shadows in his his features and the light reflecting warm in his eyes, and the voice remained ever-soft, “Dance with me, Dominic.”

Dom was glad for the dimness. His ears burned knowing he’d been thoroughly had by this man, he couldn’t say no. He rose, took off his jacket and took a step closer to Billy before taking the offered hand, “You’re tricky.”

“You’ve no idea,” the Scot returned before he pulled Dom to the dance floor.

“Are you gonna hit me with your whole Fred Astaire routine, then?” He taunted as they turned to each other, “Make me giggle, sweep me off my feet, make my husband jealous?”

“You want to be my Ginger Rogers?” Billy countered, finding a rhythm together, “Can you manage this in heels?”

Dom smiled back, “Probably not. Maybe with practice.”

“Hmm, I’ll have the heels, then...” Billy pulled him closer, “You be Patrick Swayze, keep me on my toes.”

Dom snugged his hips in automatically and replied with the cheesiest thing he could come up with, “Nobody puts Baby in the corner.”

Dom expected the laugh, because it was truly the most ridiculous line, but Billy’s gaze darted to Dom’s mouth, smiling, green eyes radiating intent.

Dom blinked and then wrenched his face to the side, suddenly at odds with himself. He found Elijah and the photographer grinding away nearby and looked away. His own body remained in Billy’s rhythm, hyperaware of every place they brushed together and fixating on it, touch that felt like something more than it should.

But his mind ran off with all of his own words ( _was I flirting? I don’t even like this guy_ ) and implications and told him to run, get out now before this got any more dangerous. Dangerous because Dom shouldn’t get involved, it was a bad idea, the worst type of idea, because the last thing he needed was an emotional attachment to someone else he couldn’t have, someone who lived on a yacht in the southern hemisphere for Christ’s sake. He sucked a breath wondering suddenly when the fuck emotion and feelings of any sort had come into this, about some bloke he’d met yesterday, wasn’t attracted to, irritated the fuck out of him, made him waste a day following stupid clues around a boat, ought to be at home cleaning up the fucking mess he’d made of his life.

The song changed to another slower one, and he stopped dancing as he felt Billy’s breath by his ear, his tone changed from playful to concerned, “Dom, it’s all right. You’re all right.”

“I know.... I just...” he stuttered, completely unsure of why he was balking now, because Billy’s voice was fine, his touch was fine, he smelled utterly incredible, and it had been a bloody fucking long time since he’d had any sort of release....

Dom shook his head, thoroughly confused and irritated with himself as Billy lead him away from the other dancers, between sofas and out the doors to the quiet, peaceful hallway of Deck 5. “I’m sorry,” Dom apologized quickly as the doors shut on the noise.

“No, I am. I’m too forward sometimes.”

“No, I just...” Dom huffed at his own indecision, “I’m a sodding idiot, is what I am.”

“I don’t think so,” Billy said simply, and Dom gritted his teeth because Billy had no basis for that, he knew nothing of what Dom was like.

They stopped at the door of Dom’s suite. Dom refused to look at Billy, opting for the patterned carpet instead. He had an edge, somewhere back there, seemed years ago now, but now he was nothing more than a floundering idiot, unable to say _Thanks Billy, I’ve had a fucked up day and a lot to think about and I owe it all to you,_ or _Thanks for the beer and dance but you aren’t my type and can I have that Orlando fellow’s number since he seems to be into an uncomplicated fuck?_ or _Thanks Billy, for reminding me that I’m the world’s biggest coward,_ or _I can’t bring myself to look at you and I don’t understand why you’re trying so hard._

Billy was perfectly able to speak, however. “Come into Christchurch with me tomorrow.”

“Christchurch?”

The singer nodded, “Spend the day with me. And the next, in Kaikoura. And after that, we’ll go to Wellington, meet a friend of mine.”

“Bill...” Dom had already begun to shake his head, but both of Billy’s hands came up to hold it still.

“You’re paying for this holiday, aren’t you? Then let’s make it worth your while,” Billy’s voice softened again, further than it had yet, “Let _me_ make it worth your while.”

Dom had closed his eyes at the feel of Billy’s hands, still on the sides of his head, and opened them now to see Billy gazing back at him. Dom hadn’t looked this close before, at eyes so green, flecked with copper and a hint of blue, open, honest and asking.

“You let me see you for a second in there, dancing with me. Just for a moment, but it was _you_ , Dominic, the one that’s underneath all this doubt. About this trip, about whatever it is you left behind, about yourself, about me,” Billy’s hands slipped away and he put them in his pockets, backing away down the hallway.

“That’s all I’m asking, Dom. Spend twelve days with me. Give me twelve days of you.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cheek. Horror movie references. Metaphorical tree climbing.

_February 23rd, Thursday  
Christchurch, New Zealand  
9:03 am_

Dom didn’t order his morning coffee. It was a bit of displaced psychology, really. The chances were high that Elijah would be the one to deliver the coffee cart, as he had the last three times, with his usual bright morning cheer. However, now that Dom had some insight about the kid, including but not limited to his nightly activities, this whole professional relationship between Passenger and Room Steward was sort of smeared messily to one side.

It also didn’t really help that shortly after closing his door on Billy’s proposal last night, he’d been so thoroughly frustrated with everything that his mind had launched furiously into a fantasy involving Elijah, the pretty photographer and himself sandwiched in between. And as emphatically as Dom tried to push the image from his head, Billy sat in the armchair in the corner with a glass of scotch and just watched, and that really shouldn’t have heightened the entire experience quite as much as it did. Just the same, if he thought about coffee, he’d think about Elijah, and then he’d think of Elijah and Orlando, and then he’d think of Billy and last night. There was coffee at breakfast, sans Elijah.

The one thing he didn’t count on was opening the door of his suite and finding Billy right fucking there, leaning casually against the opposite wall with a charcoal jacket dangling from his fingers.

“You’ve really got a knack for leaving this about,” the singer said. Dom blinked and looked at the garment. His jacket, taken off last night at the club to dance. With Billy. Fuck. Dom grabbed the jacket, tossed it into the room and yanked the door shut, eyes not leaving Billy’s. Billy was steadfast in staring right back.

Just when Dom thought it was a stalemate, Billy’s lip twitched, and fuck. Dom’s did too, he couldn’t stop it if he tried. The chuckles bubbled up and spilled over and he conceded, dropping his eyes. Real Billy was nothing like the one that he imagined last night.

“How long have you been standing out here?” he asked.

“Not long. Twenty minutes or so.”

Dom arched an eyebrow, but Billy ignored it. “I’m hungry. Let’s have breakfast.” He turned and put his hands in his pockets (jeans now, with a light-colored button down with short sleeves, plain as day).

“Hold up, man,” Dom said, falling in step with him, “I never said I go anywhere with you.”

Billy stopped and faced him. “Yeah? Why are you asking me to hold up, then?”

Dom halted abruptly.

“And where were you off to, leaving your room in such a rush?”

Dom opened his mouth and shut it. Billy smiled, both eyebrows arched knowingly over his eyes. Dom mumbled grudgingly, “Eat breakfast.”

“And then?”

“Go into Christchurch.”

Billy lit up in mock surprise, “What a fantastic coincidence! That’s me as well. Let’s go.”

Billy marched on and Dom caught up, “Don’t you have stuff to do?”

“Like what?”

“Like... work stuff.”

Billy laughed, “You know the great thing about this job, Dominic? I’m a singer. All I have to do is sing when they want me to. The rest of the time I’m left to my own devices, and right now I’m hungry.”

Dom climbed the stairs after him, following him presumably to the Cafe on the top deck. “Don’t employees eat in the Galley?”

Billy stopped and turned, a step higher than Dom. “Why, do you want to?”

Dom stared up at him, looking for a joke behind his inquiring eyes. The pause was long enough to give him away. That and he knew his own face had curiosity written all over it. Damn his childhood interest in ships and how things worked behind the scenes. Then again, that _was_ part of why he’d wanted to go on a cruise in the first place. A small part, but there nonetheless.

Billy grinned and started back down the stairs and then to the lifts, punching the button for Deck Three.

"You could have knocked," Dom said to break the silence of the elevator.

Billy's chuckle bounced off the tight walls.

“Is this allowed?” Dom asked as they left the hall, following him through the empty restaurant, “Letting me back there, I mean.”

“Dunno,” Billy told him, “We’ll find out.” They crossed through and Billy thumbed through his keycards to unlock a service door and pulled Dom in after him. Not more than a meter down the narrow corridor and there was a sound from further down the hall. Billy yanked open a door to their right and shoved Dom in, squeezing in after him.

It was a service closet, dark and somewhat cramped. Dom’s trainer scraped and scrabbled away from an empty mopbucket at his feet, leaning against the wall for support. Billy stood in front and by the door, watching anxiously out metal grating in the door’s face.

Dom knew instinctively to be quiet, but Billy pressed a hand to his chest in silent warning, keeping watch from the vent. Footsteps approached, louder and louder, the click of dress shoes on the linoleum floor echoing down the hall. Billy stepped back and crowded close, applying a bit more pressure to the hand on his chest. Dom held his breath.

Outside, the crew member passed by the door and pushed open the one they’d come through. Billy waited a few more moments before carefully extricating them from their hiding place and sneaking a peek out of the small square window of the service door with a look of complete glee on his face.

“I’m in good with most of the crew,” he said when they’d turned back down the corridor, “But him I pissed off some months back. He’d use anything to rat me out to Bernard.”

“What did you do to him?” Dom asked. He was a bit on edge from the experience of hiding with Billy. It felt good, and bad, and... exhilarating.

The singer grinned fiendishly, “I dumped a box of rotten tomatoes in his bathtub when he borrowed my guitar and wouldn’t give it back for three weeks. Teach him to leave his keycards lying around.”

Dom smirked, simultaneously amused and disgusted at the image.

“It was great. Viggo helped, that’s our chef. Plumfucking insane, but a great, brilliant man, Viggo. They tell me that room still smells like bad marinara. David had to move back to the bunkrooms.”

By the time they reached the door to the Galley, Dom had cracked to laughing. He’d been a prankster too, once. Recovering, he raised his eyes and found Billy smiling thoughtfully back, teeth chewing one side of his bottom lip. Dom composed himself and looked away, back down the hall.

“Coming in or going back?” Billy asked, after a moment.

Dom paused to study the man’s face again. Billy was so open. Quiet. Plain and expressive and so very untouched, it seemed, by any troubles. He scuffed his shoe on the floor and nodded, “Yeah, coming in.”

Billy’s smile widened, “Good.”

The Galley was fairly plain, though Dom didn’t expect anything more than a typical restaurant kitchen. There was an array of shining stainless steel, smells of food and laughter as sous-chefs worked and chatted animatedly. Benches were set up where crew in various types of uniform ate. Billy traded insults with a few of cooks and had them make some eggs and bacon for the both of them.

Sat on opposites sides of a table, Billy regarded him carefully. “What shall we do today?” he asked, scraping together eggs and potatoes with his fork.

“I dunno.” Dom mused, “I was probably just going to look around. Shop. Sight-see.”

“All right. But what shall _we_ do?” the singer asked again, nonchalantly licking butter from his fingertips.

Dom glared at him, albeit somewhat mocking, “I never agreed to your little idea, Boyd.”

“You never said no either,” Billy pointed out.

Dom put down his fork and lay his arms akimbo on the table. “Fine. Follow me around if you like. But it’s my holiday.”

Billy mimicked the motion. “Fair enough. But it’s my time off. If I choose to... ‘follow you around,’ as you so delicately put it, I think we should use the time wisely.”

Dom knitted his brows. This was another one of those stupid games, wasn’t it. “Get to the point.”

“Quid pro quo,” Billy pronounced.

Dom snorted.

“It’s a fair trade, Dominic. If I tell you something about me, you have to return the favour, tell me something about you. Something real.”

Dom took in the glitter in the man’s eyes and shook his head, “I saw that movie too, Bill. It didn’t end well.”

“Christ, Dom, I want to get in your head, not put it in a bottle,” Billy laughed. “Do I look so dangerous to you?”

Dom looked. Took in the friendly smile, the slightly thin hair, frame as small as his own. But past that, there was such openness to the man before him, even the way he held his hands, palms up, one laid on top of the other. He looked far more dangerous in Dom’s imagination, always dressed in a fuck-off black tux, mike in hand, singing something sassy and looking as though he knew things he shouldn’t know. Dom dropped his eyes to his own hands.

“It’s very simple,” Billy continued, “If, for instance, I tell you I hate cinnamon, you would surely remember that you detest a particular foodstuff as well, right?”

“You hate cinnamon?”

“Disgusting. The very thought makes me ill.”

“That’s not right, Bill. Without cinnamon, you can’t have apple crisp, or pumpkin pie. Without cinnamon, french toast just isn’t French,” Dom pointed out, “Hating a spice by default makes you hate everything it might be including in.”

“So, what great culinary delights do you gladly miss out on?” Billy prodded.

“Broccoli isn’t included in any culinary delights. The world can do without broccoli very nicely.”

Billy laughed, depositing both of their plates in a bus bin, “Come on, Clarice. New Zealand’s got a lot of lambs for you to save.”

“Mmmm. Lamb. With cinnamon.”

“Ugh!”

  
 _1:24pm_

  
“Five years ago,” Dom offered, as they strolled down the street. Riccarton Market wasn’t bustling with activity just yet, but a few people moved through the shops and vendor carts in the warm weather, some of them recognizable from the ship.

“Five years ago,” Billy repeated, “I was still on the Kismet, but it was doing the European tours then. That’s how I eventually came down here, just came with the boat.”

“Okay, then ten years ago.”

“Ah-ah. You have to do your ‘five years ago’ first.”

Dom thought for a bit. “I was living in a hole in the wall in New York. I... Sean convinced me to move after I got my first bonus.”

“And Sean is...?” Billy queried.

“My partner. My work partner. Wait, are you allowed to ask questions when it’s my turn?” Dom’s mind backpedaled irritably. _Work partner? Well done with the clarification, chief. Give him an avenue to ask about work and partners. Terrific._

“No. Well, I don’t know. Yes. How does an Englishman who lives in a hole in the wall in New York find himself on a boat in New Zealand?”

“I don’t live there anymore,” Dom huffed. “My flat is very... well, it’s nicer than that one was.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

“The question was what I was doing five years ago. I told you.”

“Okay, then what are you doing here?”

Dom stopped at a cart loaded with carved bits of ivory and greenstone in hundreds of shapes and sizes. Billy stood beside him as his fingered the nearest one. “I said last night. I planned this, even before I went to the states. I always wanted to come here. I always... I used to study everything about this place. The culture, the climates... I’ve nearly forgotten it all now though. I wanted to know it like it was mine, my world. My home.”

“Is it?” Billy’s voice reflected where Dom’s had gone, quiet and inward.

Dom’s thoughts went back to when he and Sean had first met, when he’d told him about this trip. Sean had always known he was restless. He’d even taken to the notion that maybe Dom would settle, wouldn’t have such itchy feet after this trip. There was a conversation back then that had stuck in his mind, recalled only now after years of dormancy.

       
_“You’re sure about this?” Sean asked again, for the umpteenth time that day._

 _“I’ve never been so sure of anything, mate,” Dom grinned, popping a handful of crisps in his mouth._

 _“It’s a lot of money,” Sean pointed out, but Sean had a wife and a mortgage and a two year old, he worried constantly about the very thing, even after getting a bonus. Dom had no ties and a savings account specially labeled NZ at the bank._

 _“Worth it. Every penny.” Dom stated with certainty, because it was. He had imagined mountains to rival the Himalayas, beaches better than Monaco could offer, forests full of old growth trees and plains that stretched as far as the eye could see, all within kilometers of each other.“I can’t wait to be there. I can’t wait to see it with my own eyes. I want to breath it in and feel it, Sean, you know? It’ll feel right. I know it will.”_

 _“Don’t you worry that... that you’ll leave a part of yourself there? After you come back, you won't be able to afford to go back for years.” Sean’s forehead scrunched up the way it did when he was sure something was reckless._

 _Dom shook his head, “You’ve got it backwards, man. All my life something’s been missing. I’ve been all around Europe and always felt this, but it’s never been enough. But it’s there, Sean, whatever it is, it’s in New Zealand. I’m going to find it there.”_

Now he wasn’t so sure. He had been so empty that even the beauty of the country didn't fill the holes, all the disappointments he’d had in his life. Even this trip was turning out to be a disappointment.

He didn’t answer Billy’s question. Instead, he scrambled to change the subject. He pointed to an ivory fishhook, “This one means prosperity,” he look to the vendor for confirmation and she nodded. He moved to the next, a circular disk, “This is continuity, rebirth,” then to a tiki, “This is fertility, goodwill,” and finally the single twist, “And this is friendship.”

“What's this one?” Billy pointed to the stone resting against his own throat. Dom had assumed it was just an uncarved, polished piece when he’d seen it before, but upon closer inspection discovered it had two twists, a tight double helix in jade.

He shrugged, “I don’t know. Same as the friendship one, I guess.”

Dom looked away, absently fingering a different pendant on the display. The double twist’s meaning was fairly obvious; two twists, two lives intertwined forever. He knew it, and he knew Billy knew it. It was the fact the Billy knew he knew it that had sent his heart thrumming erratically for a second, like it had last night when Billy had very nearly kissed him in the club. He dismissed the feeling, because it shouldn’t be there and Billy would likely not let him just walk away this time.

The piece of greenstone in his hand looked like a bird, but if he tilted it, it looked almost like a dragon of sorts, intricate details carved so that it could be either one.

“ _Manaia_ ,” the woman behind the cart told him when he asked it’s name. “That one is our protector, our spirit guardian.” He nodded politely and placed it back on its hook to browse through the rest. He eventually selected a dark jade fishhook for Sean and a tiki for Christine, asking the woman to pronounce the Maori names, purposely mispronouncing them so she would laugh. _Take that, Boyd,_ he thought triumphantly, _you’re not the only silver-tongued bloke around here_. Billy just grinned and grinned as he watched, then leaned into the woman, indicating his own pendant and nodding to her with a wink, “You see anyone looks like they’re missing one of these, let me know, eh? I’ve worn it for a long while now, and it’s not mine.”

The vendor giggled behind her palm, thoroughly charmed. Dom watched him sidelong. Pocketing his change, he spotted the dragon-thing again, the _Manaia_. There was just something about it. “How much for that one as well?”

  
 _4:59 pm_

  
“What’s Sean like?” Billy asked.

Dom poked a stick into the muddy bank by the water at his feet. They’d wandered into the bush around a historic estate, where apparently a Scottish family had settled (Billy had taken this information with a smug look around the site). The large creek was clear and swift, lined with huge trees.

“Sean is... He’s the poster boy for the great American dream, is what he is. Got a beautiful wife and two girls and perfect little condo in the city.” He laughed softly to himself. “He’s my best mate.” _My only mate._

“And your work partner,” Billy spoke from somewhere behind him.

“Yeah.” _I don’t want to talk about work, Bill._ he thought, stabbing the mud harder. _Please, just let it go._ He could make it up. Continue on with the teacher story, like he’d told Liv in the salon. Billy wouldn’t know. He’d never see him again after this stupid Twelve Days of Whatever proposal. Sure, he teaches... no, he assists a teacher, Sean, his _work partner_ , right? And...

He heard a branch creak and snap turned to find Billy about five feet up the nearest beech. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“What’s it look like?” Billy grinned down from above.

“Billy, you’re what, thirty? If you fall, I’m not dragging your sorry broken arse back to the boat.”

“Thirty-seven,” he grinned and pulled himself even higher, “And if I fall, you’ll catch me.”

Dom snorted, “Yeah? Not likely. I bet I can beat you to the top even with your head start.”

“Better get your arse in gear then.”

Dom did not beat Billy to the top, but rather found him sitting smugly in the fork of the two highest branches that would support him as he pulled himself up, huffing. Billy held out a hand and Dom took it, let the man haul him up the rest of the way. Once settled, he laughed at the ridiculousness of this, and the elation of it. It had been too long since he’d given in the this urge.

“Beat you,” Billy told him haughtily.

Dom nodded, defeated. “You’ll be wanting a prize, I suppose.”

Billy shook his head. “Got it already. Look at that.” He pointed out to the west, where the rolling hills and forests went on to the hazy ocean, the sun beginning its descent through the sirrus clouds. The breeze fluttered through the high branches, scented with grass and blossoms and the faint salt, cool and clean on their faces. Dom closed his eyes to it and breathed, listened to Billy breathe, and just for the briefest of moments, found a little peace.

He cracked an eye and glanced at the older man. Billy’s eyes were closed, his lips just slightly open at the middle, the muscles of his face relaxed. The sun glinted fiery in his hair. The was something about the clarity of the air up here that made Dom feel free, leaning to pick a stray bit of bark from a tangle over Billy’s right ear.

Billy opened his eyes. Caught in the act, Dom held up the bark in his defense. “What would all those old ninnies think if they knew their lounge singer spent his off time up a tree?” he asked, grinning. He dropped the piece of bark and they watched it fall, hitting and twirling off of twigs on its way down.

Billy’s watch beeped. Dom’s eyes went automatically to the sound, so unnatural in this environment, to Billy’s left wrist. To Billy’s left hand, to his slim fingers, wrapped white-knuckled around a branch. His eyes flicked back up to Billy’s face, which was now down turned as if still watching the piece of wood fall, but his eyes were squeezed shut.

“Bill, you're not...”

“I am. I’m completely fucking terrified actually.” Billy’s voice was tense, but laughing, “And if we don’t get down and back to the ship within an hour, they’re going to leave without us.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Help me, Dom.”

Dom laughed too, out of nerves. “Okay. Just... don’t. Here...”

He pried Billy’s hand off the branch and it flew to fist a large chunk of his T-shirt. Dom briefly lost his own footing and wobbled. “Fuck! Billy, if you pull me down we’ll both fall. And you’re gonna have to open your eyes.”

“Fuck. Stupid fucking idea, haven’t been up a tree since I was fucking five, stupid fucking things trees, _Christ_ this is high up...”

“Billy. Eyes.”

“Eyes,” he parroted and a pair of wild green eyes popped open to meet Dom’s.

Dom stared back, laughing at Billy’s babbling at the same time. He squashed the giggles down and looked back into Billy’s eyes. “I won’t let you fall,” he murmured quietly, seriously, like he would address a frightened child.

Bill blinked back for a moment, breathing hard. “If I fall, I’m taking you with me,” he said, still managing a tight smile.

“We’re not falling, Bill. Come on, hands, feet. One at a time. Turn around, face the tree. I’m behind you the whole way.”

“Me and you.”

“You and me. Up a tree.”

“K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” Billy cackled. “Oh _fuck_. Are we down yet?”

“Just keep going. Right hand, left foot. A little farther left, there’s a branch just there.”

“I can’t reach it. I’m slipping!”

“... just a little farther, Bill. You won’t fall.”

“You’ll catch me.”

“That’s right, I’ll catch... Just climb, Billy.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of guitars, old memories and dancing.

_February 24th, Friday  
Kaikoura, New Zealand  
5:05 pm_

“When I was nineteen, maybe twenty, I was working in a music shop outside of Stirling. Pushed a broom and helped people find sheet music and the like. This was back when I was just getting into to it, you know, playing music. The owner also used to do restoration in the back, and I’d watch him sometimes, if he’d let me. Usually he’d yell at me to get to work, clean, bring him something, that sort of thing.”

Billy paused to sip his coffee. “One day, he’d brought in this old guitar he’d acquired at an estate sale down in Edinburgh. Fecking gorgeous piece of work, this thing Dom. Classical make, Spanish-made in the forties according to the label. Brazilian rosewood with an ebony fretboard, and at the top inlaid in mother-of-pearl and copper were two holly leaves. ‘Not another in the world like this’, he told me. Then he strung it up and tuned it and... Dom, you’ve never heard such a sound as this guitar made.”

They’d spent the morning walking through town along a shopping district, and where Dom had pulled Billy into a record shop for an hour, passing the time talking music and making each other listen to certain bands at listening stations. It turned out Billy liked a wide range of music outside of the classics he sang in the lounge. Billy had countered by dragging Dom into a guitar shop, looking carefully over each one, asking the owner if they had any used ones for sale. He’d tried out two or three different guitars, strumming out one tune and finger-picking another. Dom had watched all this without complaint, because there was something about watching someone pull a melody out of an instrument, and Billy’s hands were quite as accomplished as his voice was.

It was the second trip into another guitar shop a few miles away, where Billy repeated the whole act that set Dom wondering, and at dinner in a seaside cafe he questioned him on it.

“It was the pride of his collection. He’d hang it up in the shop front with a little sign that said it was absolutely not for sale. Every morning he’d put it out there, and every night, he’d lock it away in a big heavy steel cupboard in the back room where he kept tools. And one night after closing, he was gabbing with an old friend and he hands me the keys, tells me to do it.” Billy’s tense changed abruptly, like he was reliving the moment in his head.

Billy met Dom’s gaze over the table and a spark of absolute devilry lit in his eyes. No words necessary. There was no question what had happened next.

“I had to,” Billy conceded, “Just once. I wasn’t any good then, but... I had to feel it.” He seemed to glaze over, fingers twitching as if remembering.

Dom couldn’t help but ask, “What did it feel like?”

Billy blinked out of his reverie and looked Dom over, a slow smile settling on his face. “It was like... like, imagine your first kiss, the first with someone you want so bad you can’t breathe when they’re that close... then multiply it by a hundred.”

“How romantic,” Dom said dryly, then realizing that might read as flirting, looked for an out. “What happened then?”

Billy flushed slightly and grinned down at his coffee. “He caught me.”

Dom erupted into laughter. Somehow the rather innocent story now seemed awfully like having been walked in on by your mother while tossing one off. Or Billy’s boss rather, walking in on... well.

“Almost pissed myself,” Billy continued, “But the old fart, he looks me over hard, and he takes it out my hands. Then he pulls an old cheap teaching guitar off the wall shoves it at me and says,” – Billy adopted a thick and very gruff highland brogue – “‘Learn to play worth a shite and maybe I’ll let you touch it again. That’s yer pay, now fuck off.’”

Dom laughed, “Sounds like he had a soft spot.”

“Maybe so,” Billy grinned, scrubbing the back of his neck, “But fuck if I didn’t learn to play on that old junker he gave me. Still have it.”

“Still? Here?”

“Aye, in my room on the ship. It’s actually not that crap of a guitar.”

Dom asked, “Did you show him you learned? I mean, you went back, right?”

“No,” Billy shook his head and looked away, “The old man died few months later. Had heart disease or something like. He didn’t have any kids either, and I guess he didn’t have any money, had unpaid debts. Things got sold around and Holly...” Billy snapped his mouth shut and flushed again. Rather brightly this time.

Dom wasn’t about it let that slide, not an inch, “Oh, Bill.”

“Fuck off.”

“You _named_ it.”

“You would have too,” Billy scrubbed at the back of his neck again (the pink had gone all the way back there), roughing up his hair. “Anyway, it I guess it got sold with the rest. I’ve not see it since.”

Dom eventually stopped giggling, “So that’s what this is. Going into all the music stores we pass.”

Bill shrugged with a guilty smile.

“Jesus Bill, you really think you’ll find it? That’s a needle in a haystack if ever there was one.”

“I don’t mind the looking. I’ve found a lot of things along the way.”

“Like what?”

“A fantastic job, good company,” Billy said, immediately. “Found you, told you my little secret, and I reckon you’ll not let me live it down.”

“Not ever Bill, count on that.” Dom grinned.

Billy smile went soft, along with his voice, “Forever is a long time.”

Dom sat back and looked away, as though doing so would negate what the singer was implying.

Dom chewed over the last two days. It wasn’t fair to Billy really, and Dom liked the man, liked that he was so intent on keeping Dom distracted from his thoughts. It wasn’t helping his guilty conscience though. Billy clearly had other motives and the patience of a damned saint, and Dom just didn’t know what to think. He’d firmly told himself he wasn’t interested, even if Billy smelled good, even if his voice haunted him at night, even if it was really nice to sit and watch him play a guitar like it was an extension of himself. It wasn’t a good idea. Soon he’d go back home, to work, to deal with his demons and Billy wouldn’t be there to distract him anymore.

He’d have to go back and deal with knowing Shiloh was gone, deal with being expected to just let it go.

       
_“Hello there,” Dom pitched his voice soft and soothing from the doorway, above the sounds of Burt and Ernie on the small TV set in the corner._

 _The child sat on a sofa cushion on the floor, fingers working through the yarn hair of a doll that was clamped between her feet. The small room in the 112th precinct was furnished with an old loveseat, some colorful rhyme books, a Barbie that had seen better days in Malibu and a minuscule table and chairs that had been painted a dozen times over._

 _The girl had known he was there before he had spoken. She looked up only once for a long second, dark eyes penetrating and face blank. Then she turned her attention back to the doll, selecting three pieces of yarn and plaiting them together. “Hi.” Her voice was not scared, but somewhat indifferent, as though she’d talked to so many strangers today._

 _Dom entered the room and turned one of the child-sized chairs to face the child, sitting gingerly on it. “What’s your name, love?”_

 _He knew her name, of course. Time had taught him it was best to go through the motions and make friends if he could. These first meetings were crucial._

 _“Shiloh,” she told him, not shyly like most girls her age (six, born in May, according to the file). She looked up, chin held proud and dark eyes daring him to just try and make fun of her unusual name._

 _“That’s a pretty name,” he said, “I’ve never known anyone with that name.”_

 _“It means ‘Peace’,” she informed him, “My auntie named me. She’s gone now, but mom said so.”_

 _“Well, Shiloh, my name is Dominic,” he leaned closer and smiled softly, “but I don’t know what it means. You’ll have to find out and tell me, eh?”_

 _“You’re not a policeman,” she told him pointedly._

 _Dom nodded, “Right you are. What gave me away?”_

 _“I rode in a police car on the way here. They did the siren.” she said, then shrugged. “You don’t have a badge, or a hat.”_

 _Dom chuckled. “No I don’t. But I am someone the policemen call when kids need help.”_

 _Her dark eyes found his again. Dom made sure not to break eye contact, but she was disconcerting, this tiny girl with eyes that seemed to have scores of years behind them, drilling into his soul, measuring his honesty. She blinked and looked back at her work, and the spell broke._

 _“You want to help me?” she asked, and this time her tone was different, an edge of something less dull._

 _“I do,” he said, letting his voice drop further, “But you’re a strong girl, aren’t you? It was you who called the police this morning?”_

 _She hesitated, not looking up, then nodded._

 _“That was good, Shiloh. We’re all so proud of you for that. Me and all the policemen here, and your mum is too.”_

 _She bit her lip and nodded again._

 _Dom pressed on, “You know your mum is sick, right?”_

 _Shiloh looked up and then past him, and Dom followed her line of sight to see Sean at the window outside the door of the little room. Shiloh studied him as intently as she had Dom on his arrival. Sean smiled and waved. Dom waved back and pointed, “That’s my friend Sean. He’s here to help too.”_

 _Shiloh’s eyes found his again. “Yeah, my mom is sick. She does drugs is why. Walter brings them and she does it. Walter’s my step-dad, not my real dad.”_

 _Dom swallowed, if only to hold on to his composure. It was nothing he didn’t know, but the girl was all of six years old for fuck’s sake. She shouldn’t have to know these things. “Can you tell me what happened to make you have to call the police this morning?”_

 _She picked out three more strands of yarn on the doll’s head and started braiding. “She was sleeping this morning on the couch, she was sick from it ‘cause she always is after. He came home and... they yelled. He hit her. He does it a lot, but she... this time she hit him back, and then he did it again, and wouldn’t stop and she stopped making noises. So I hid in the bedroom. That’s where the phone is, just in Mom’s bedroom. And I called. And they came.”_

 _The last part seemed almost in wonder that help_ would _come, if only she asked._

 _That was far more than Dom had expected in the first meeting. He glanced back at Sean, who nodded, verifying that it was being recorded. “Thank you for telling me. You did a brave thing, the right thing. Your mum is hurt pretty bad though, and she’s sick from the drugs. We want to help her too, so she’s going to go to a special place where doctors can make her feel better.”_

 _“A hospital. She’s been there before.”_

 _“Yes, but this one is different, it’s like a house too, where she can talk to other people who want to stop drugs. It will take a long time, but she’ll --”_

 _“I don’t want to stay with Walter,” she interrupted, miles ahead of him. Her huge eyes suddenly fixed to his, defiant, ready to fight if he should dispute her._

 _He shook his head with certainty, “No love, you won’t. Those officers from this morning took him to jail because he hurt your mother.”_

 _Her eyes went glassy and she blinked furiously, but no tears fell. “He hurts me too, sometimes,” she whispered._

 _Dom’s heart gave an involuntary squeeze, “I know, and that’s not okay. It’s never okay, do you understand? That’s why me and Sean are here,” he scooted the chair a bit closer and the old wood creaked. “Shiloh, we want your mum to get all better so she can take care of you, but she has to go to the hospital for awhile to get better. We’re going to take you to live with a different family until then.”_

 _Her eyebrows knitted and her nose scrunched, as if thinking it over. “Is it your family?”_

 _He smiled, “Well, my family lives far, far away, over the ocean. This family is closer.”_

 _“Will I get to see my mom?”_

 _“We’ll see. She’ll probably feel really bad for a bit, but she’ll get better, and maybe then they’ll let you visit.”_

 _“Can I live with you?” she asked next, eyes on her doll, but that note of hope crept back into her tone._

 _Dominic pressed a fist to his mouth for a moment, trying to regain his edge. “You know, I’m an old bum, and my house is no fun for kids. But tell you what. Any time you want to see me, all you have to do is tell the grown-ups there to ring me up and I’ll be there in a flash. All right?”_

 _“Any time?”_

 _“Day or night, love.”_

 _She looked back down at the doll, but her fingers trembled on the braided yarn. Dom watched as she struggled to stay unaffected, all of six years old and conditioned not to break down. He lay a gentle hand on her shoulder and whispered, “You’re going to be okay.”_

 _The little girl gave a shuddery breath and abruptly wrapped her skinny arms around his neck. His own hands suddenly looked enormous to him, hovering over her bony little frame for a moment before settling and returning the embrace. No abused child had ever reached out to him like this. They all cried, sure. They clung around his neck out of instinct when he carried them away from their families. But it wasn’t like this. This was not the same at all._

 _He glanced over at the window, at Sean, desperate for some form of reassurance that this was okay, that he was allowed this sort of contact. Sean’s face was sad and tight with concern, the way it got only when things were difficult to hide under the mask of the job. He nodded acquiesence and left the window._   


Dom sighed. He’d replayed the memory in his head a hundred times over in the last few weeks, trying to find his mistake, where it went wrong, where he’d fucked it up so irrevocably. Where he’d stopped caring and started loving Shiloh as though she was his to love.

Billy’s voice brought him back. “Dom?”

“Hmmm?”

“You went far away on me.”

“Sorry,” Dom huffed at himself. “Did you ever feel responsible for something bad, even if it wasn’t directly your fault?”

Dom couldn’t believe he’d even said the words once they were out, but Billy simply stirred his coffee and thought for several long moments.

“My parents died when I was a lad,” he eventually said and Dom looked up at him, expecting to see hurt etched in his face, the long-harboured pain of an orphan. Billy simply gazed out over the horizon from the cafe where they sat with an expression of fond remembrance. “I blamed the whole world for that, but mostly myself. For a long time.”

He didn’t elaborate, and Dom didn’t ask, though he wondered the usual why’s and how’s. It was Billy’s lack of expected emotion was more disturbing. “How can you just say that? Just like that, like it doesn’t hurt?”

Bill met his eyes, “Because, it happened. No amount of dwelling on it changes that.”

“But you say it like it wasn’t... like it doesn’t affect you in the least!”

“I’d be a liar then,” Billy retorted gently. “It was a long time ago, and I’m not going to tell you it wasn’t the worst time in my life. But if I spent every day wishing it hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t be here.”

Dom shook his head, confused and annoyed, “What, like it was fate or something? No offense Bill, but that’s ridiculous.”

“No, I’m saying it wasn’t.” Billy reached across and gripped his hand, “You make your own fate, Dominic. My mum and dad wanted me to do what I love and be happy, and I am. You can’t stop living your life just because someone else’s has ended.”

The stark words hit Dom hard, and he got up and walked to the railing of the cafe balcony to turn fully away from Billy’s prying eyes. Shiloh’s life had become his for the last two years. Night and day he’d spent, shuffling her from one foster family to the next, long hours in court, determined to keep Walter under the watchful eye of probation, tacked with restraining orders until they could at least nail the son of a bitch with another charge for something. Hours in hospital with her when he failed, time and time again. Billy couldn’t know what that was like. He took several careful slow breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth to calm himself and stiffened when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Oi,” Bill whispered, “I’m sorry. Don’t feel like you have to tell me things if you don’t want to.”

Dom looked up at him, studying the honesty in that face. The words brought a surge of relief, but it was laced with a pang of distrust. Of course Billy wanted to know, just exactly as Dom wanted to know about Billy’s parents. Curiosity was a human thing. But Dom didn’t want to let Billy in there, there was far too much access to his emotions when it came to Shiloh. It would be an avenue to break him down. There would be comfort hugs and tears and touching and would likely lead to things Dom wouldn’t have the strength to wiggle his way out of. Dom wasn’t into pity fucking by any means, giving or receiving. And certainly not about this. It would be far, far worse than an uncomplicated lay with someone he didn’t know and had no intentions of seeing again when it was over.

“Bill...” he started, fully intending to deliver the _I don’t think we should do this anymore_ speech, seriously and firmly. He didn’t need any more stories, nor any more distractions. He didn’t need a friend down here on the other side of the world. He had Sean back home to go to if he needed to talk. Sean understood it all, back home. He’d get through this and let it go. He didn’t need Billy to be his therapy. “This is--”

But he was interrupted by the spout of a whale, directly in his line of sight and several hundred yards out in the bay. Gaping, he watched as the tail rose and smoothly slid back into the water as if it was never there at all.

“Well now, look at that,” Billy murmured from beside him, amazement clear in his voice.

“You said they don’t surface, that you don’t ever see them,” Dom stuttered blankly, still absolutely shocked at what he’d seen.

“Maybe he had something to say,” Billy replied, and Dom tore his sight away from the waves to him.

“Come to the lounge tonight?” Billy asked quietly, before Dom could say anything else, “And the club after? Please?”

There was something else under his voice this time, something less authoritative and more entreating, and his eyes were moss soft in the glow of the sunlight.

Dom sighed, a deep breath of cleansing sea-laced air, glancing back at the bay as though the apparition would reappear, and realized he’d completely forgotten what he was going to say. Chuckling at himself, he asked, “Do I have to follow another bunch of clues to get there? Fight my way through your bodyguard? Got some crazy surprise planned for me?”

Billy grinned, but he spoke slowly, as if very carefully choosing his words, “No. I just... I just want you to be there. That’s all.”

  
 _9:00pm_

  
Dom tugged on his tie at the door, worrying at it for reasons he couldn’t explain. Not for Billy though, because Billy didn’t seem pressed one way or the other if Dom had dimpled his tie properly or whether he wore one at all. The doorman nodded at him, a curt _yes sir, it looks fine_ in his eyes, and opened the frosted doors to the Indigo. Dom did not look at the bandstand as he made his way to the bar. He nodded to the bar man who immediately reached for the whisky. _Bean_ , he thought to himself, remembering that Bill had mentioned him before.

“Missed you last night in here,” Bean said with a smile. “How did Billy’s little bread crumbs go?”

Dom blinked for a few moments and then flushed, and shook his head, “Does he have everyone on this ship in on his little games or what?”

“Christ, no,” Bean said, wiping out a glass, “Billy’s smart though. He knows who can be trusted with things. He can count on me to get him out of a bad spot or to slip his shite poetry to the right bloke, long as we’ve known each other.”

“How long is that?”

“Long time. Longer than anyone else here, I expect. Fifteen-odd? Good thing I like the little bastard too.”

“Fifteen _years_?” Dom asked, surprised.

“Around that,” Bean shot Dom that flashy grin, “Go ahead, ask how we met.”

Dom laughed, “All right, how?”

“We worked construction together in London. That big office park, you know, Canary Wharf where the docks used to be? Billy waltzes right in out of nowhere and starts helping me move a bunch of supports without a single word, just nods and grins that stupid sweet grin of his. Did that for near two hours before the foreman even noticed. And he was a big bear of a man too, the boss. He comes barreling over with a face as red as a goddamn firetruck, and Bill just grins and says, ‘I noticed you seemed a man short. I can start tomorrow, and I only ask enough for a sandwich and a good stiff drink down the pub every night.’”

Dom shook his head, grinning. He could easily picture this, Billy’s nonchalant charm and hopeful grin. He’d seen it just hours before. He turned and looked, finally at him, done up in that tux and looking as slick as he ever did in Dom’s mind. This time, that was the real Billy, who fairly glowed back at him. He was currently waltzing all over Frankie Valli’s “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You” as though showing him how it was done.

“The little pissant kept it from me that he’d been living in the Shadwell Station for weeks.” Bean’s voice continued, “I talked my wife into letting him have the couch, and when she left me, we had a regular bachelor pad.”

Dom’s head whipped back to Bean, “Billy was homeless?”

“He didn’t tell you that?”

Dom shook his head.

“Well, I guess not, not outright. The man has a lot of pride, and he’s been dragged through a lot of shit before he got to be singing to you up on that stage. Went from city to city working odd jobs when he left home. But he’s not adverse to telling people about it, just ask him. Smart man, is Bill. You want another?”

Dom looked back at his drink and nodded. If Bill was so smart, why couldn’t he spot a lost cause when he saw one?

He worked through another whisky while Billy crooned through a fantastic rendition of Nina Simone, and this time, blurred around the edges by the whisky, Dom let the quiet, soulful words in.

 _Birds flying high, you know how I feel  
Sun in the sky, you know how I feel  
Breeze drifting on by, you know how I feel  
It’s a new dawn  
It’s a new day  
It’s a new life  
For me  
And I’m feeling good._

  
 _1:30am_

  
“You told him the about the guitar?” Elijah positively lit up with glee.

Billy shrugged and took another swig of his beer, “He asked me.”

“The neverending search for your beloved Holly.” Elijah singsonged in his ear, cackling.

“Only woman I ever loved,” Billy toasted and drank, watching Dom watch the two of them.

Liv sat with them with her own beer and sweet perfume while the music flowed through the club, “I think it’s sweet,” she said, tossing in her two cents.

“A song, there’s gotta be a song for it, quick...” Elijah snapped his fingers as though it would make a song come to one of them.

“There are quite a few songs, love, most of them are called ‘Holly’.” Billy told him patiently.

“Tell me one!”

“Where the hell does your energy come from?” Dom asked as he shook his head in disbelief. Elijah was currently half in Billy’s lap, working through a second beer, eyes darting between the conversation at hand and at the door to the Midnight Club.

Billy leaned towards Dom conspiratorially, “Batteries.”

“Song!”

“Fine. Ron Affif’s ‘Holly’,” Billy said, eyes still on Dominic’s across the table, “It’s a classical guitar solo, as a matter of fact.”

Elijah knitted his brows, “Gimme one that I know, at least.”

Billy continued to smile at Dom, tilting his head and Dom became aware that he was being issued a direct challenge. _Song,_ Billy’s eyes said.

Dom pursed his lips in thought and gestured with his beer as he laid out his hand, “From _Breakfast at Tiffany’s_ , then.”

Billy nodded and drank to that one.

Liv piped up, “Ooh, I love that movie!”

“Never seen it,” Elijah quipped.

“You’ve never seen _Breakfast at Tiffany’s_?” Dom asked incredulously, “That’s unbelievable. Where are you from anyway that you managed to miss that?”

Elijah blinked and the smile left his face, eyes going to the door. “I wasn’t born yet.”

“None of us were, Lij. Nineteen sixty-one, and if I’m not mistaken, I’m the oldest one here.” Billy pointed out.

“Old, grey and balding,” Elijah retorted.

“Oi!” Billy twisted Elijah’s arm up behind his back.

“Ah! I meant it in a sexy, really classy old guy sort of way! Like Ian! Fuck Billy! I give, already, ow, jesus!”

Billy relented, pulling him up and knuckling his head before cuddling him, “That’s right. Don’t forget that.” He grinned at Dom, and Dom looked away.

He observed these interactions without trying to be too obvious when it struck him to wonder just exactly what Billy and Elijah’s relationship might be. Billy said they were friends, ( _like a brother, almost_ , were the exact words). It was obviously close. Billy’s arm casually draped over Elijah’s shoulders, and the boy himself was all twitchy movements and abrupt bouts of snuggling back into Billy’s torso, fingers tapping to the music on his beer bottle, a dramatic difference from his programmed etiquette as a steward. And that was fine right? After all, Dom’s own Sean was cuddly enough. If you caught him in the right mood, he was a regular teddy bear, but these encounters were generally private. And strictly platonic.

“He’s not coming,” Elijah sighed sullenly in the direction of the door after a few quiet minutes, and it took Dom a moment to remember who ‘he’ was referring to. _Ace. Photographer. Sex on legs. Right._

“You’ll live, I think,” Billy chided, “I’m sure you can go a whole twenty-four hours without for once.”

“Just like you, Casanova,” Elijah turned and smacked Billy hard on the chest once, and went for it a second time but Billy caught his wrist, and shook his head in a decidedly _don’t test your luck_ sort of way.

Elijah’s face melted into a pout, not theatrical, but really quite convincing at Bill, “I just want to dance. Need to. All this energy.”

“Those are hormones.”

Dom took a sip of his beer and focused his attention on the DJ, wanting to consciously distance himself from the scene. Billy was a friendly bloke. Maybe Billy was like that with everyone. _Not with me_ , he thought, his stomach fluttering, _with me he’s cautious. And that’s good. He should be, he’s not getting to me_.

“Ask Dom to dance, I’m beat,” he heard Billy say and moved to protest.

Elijah grumbled. “Dommie’s testy about dancing, remember?”

“It’s Dom. And I’m not testy either.” Dom retorted.

“Oh for Christ’s sake, guys,” Liv put down her bottle and stood, “Dance with me, Dom, it’s safer.”

And before Dom had managed to get out that he didn’t really want to dance, he was pulled out on the floor with a beautiful and rather tall woman in his arms. Shortly after he saw Elijah do the same with Billy.

“So, Billy, hmm?” Liv smiled sweetly down at him after several minutes, and he studied the knowing look on her face. His eyes darted back over her shoulder, where Billy danced with Elijah behind him, letting the frenetic rhythm guide their hips. Billy’s eyes were closed and a little grin curled his lips, while Elijah peered over his shoulder, directly at Dom and glinting roguishly. Then without breaking eye contact, the cocky little tart whispered something in the shell of Billy’s ear, the snaked a hand up from Billy’s hip, deliberately licked two fingers and slipped them between two shirt buttons on Billy’s chest. Billy laughed and arched, opening his eyes, landing dark and sparking on Dom.

Dom felt his cheeks heat and looked at Liv. “So. Billy. Hmm.”

She giggled, all sweet breath and soft swells under his hands. It was times like this that Dom thought he might have liked women if men weren’t so fucking sexy. But he pulled her closer anyway, because he didn’t need any of it. Not now.

But when he collapsed in his bed in the early hours of the morning, he still could not figure out how Elijah and Liv had eventually disappeared, evaporated away like the sweat on his skin and the alcohol in his blood. He’d gotten lost in the rhythm, one that was matched beat for beat by small neat hands on his skin, hips that fit snug with his own, the smell of sweat and whiskey and almonds driving him to keep dancing his troubles away.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dom is not a morning person. Disagreements, mixed feelings, and pixies ensue. Yes, you read that right. Pixies.

_February 25th, Saturday  
Wellington, New Zealand  
7:45 am_

Dom woke to knocking on his door, squinting at the clock and wondering if something was wrong. It was early, very early considering the late night, and he hastily yanked on the slacks he’d worn the previous night before pulling the door open.

“Coffee,” Billy said, shoving a paper cup into his hand and pushing passed him into the room. Dom shut the door and stared after him dumbly, watching as Billy rifled through his suitcase and found a T-shirt and a pair of cargo shorts, jabbering the whole time. “Pete said he’d send us a car, so I don’t want to keep him waiting. He’s a busy bloke and I doubt we’ll see much of him, so... here,” Billy took the coffee and shoved the clothes at Dom, eyes skittering over his bare chest, “You’ll not want to be wearing nice things.”

“Billy,” Dom finally located his voice. “Just what the fuck are you doing here? It’s been what, four hours since we spoke last?”

“Yeah. But Pete’s waiting.” Billy turned him around and pushed him back into the room, then turned and faced the door so Dom could change, “So get dressed and let’s go, we’ll be busy today.”

“You are something else, you know that?” Dom grumbled as he dressed, his tone no less than grating. “Not had enough sleep, no shower, no shave, haven’t had bloody time to scratch my balls and piss and you’ve got me marching off to see some fucker I don’t know for whatever fucking reason... And you listen to me...” Dressed now in the clothes Billy chose for him, he yanked Billy around to face him, “I don’t know why I keep doing this with you, because you’re the craziest, most irritating little bastard on this entire boat.”

Billy gazed back with that annoyingly innocent smile on his face through this little speech, until his hand crept up between them, holding the coffee back under Dom’s nose. Dom took it and gulped several hot caffeine-laden mouthfuls.

“Better?”

Dom nodded.

Billy stepped a little closer, and whispered, “I won’t wake you so early tomorrow, I promise.” Then he twitched his head to the bathroom door, “Go pee, and we’ll be off.”

There was a car waiting at the pier, and they spent the twenty minute drive through Wellington in silence. Dom pretended to doze on his side of the of the sedan’s back seat, but the bright warm sunlight and the coffee had done its job and now he was awake and thinking.

He knew Billy meant well, and it was easy to just go along with him. After all, Dom would likely just go on one of the tour groups and putter his way through whatever polite conversation was to be had with the other passengers, which wasn’t much since he had little in common with most people over the age of sixty-five. That or he’d aimlessly wander the city on his own. But he wasn’t sure how he felt about meeting someone that had only been mentioned in passing, and wondered why it was so important to do so in the first place.

The car slowed and pulled into a drive, and Dom climbed from the car to see a large, haphazard house that looked as though it had once been significantly smaller and had several rooms dropped onto it at random. Billy grinned at him reassuringly.

They were met at the door by a bearded man wearing a baggy shirt and shorts, speaking on a mobile phone with the distinct expression of one trying to end the conversation. Bill shook his hand silently and ushered Dom into the foyer.

Looking around, Dom attempted to quell the unease of the situation. It seemed awkward to have been invited not quite so cordially into the home of someone he’d never met and did not know why he was meeting. This was different than the previous days of just being a common tourist, and felt out of place.

As large and erratic as the house look on the outside, the interior was cluttered comfortably, with mismatched furniture in the adjacent sitting room and a coat rack piled with windbreakers in the foyer corner. Pete had a gaunt look, almost as if he might be ill, or perhaps lost a fair amount of weight in a short time. For whatever reason – maybe the mysteriousness with which Billy’d not given any explanation as to why they’d come to visit this man, though Billy clearly held Pete in in high regard – Dom was left decidedly unimpressed.

Down the hall opposite the sitting room, a door opened and a dark, curly-haired head poked curiously out. Billy looked toward the noise of the door as well, and the little face lit up with a smile. The door widened and the little girl came running.

“Billy! Billy, Billy’s here!” the little girl cried out. Bill knelt and gave the little girl a hug, while an older boy with matching curls approached from the room.

“Sorry about that,” Pete said, finally clicking the phone shut, “Billy, good to see you.”

Billy made short introductions and Dom shook the man’s hand. “He’s here to help,” Billy put in, and Dom blinked at him.

“Wonderful. Well, you'll be paid, of course.” Pete nodded and turned, continuing to talk as they followed him through the house. “Let’s get to it, then, I don’t have a whole lot of time... should have left ten minutes ago...”

Dom looked at Billy quizzically, but was ignored. Through the kitchen and outside in the large garden, Dom hung back while Pete gestured to a bunch of saplings. “These are to be planted ten feet apart, eight feet from the wall along the east side. There’s room for about fifteen of them there. A couple more can go here along side the house...”

Pete continued to explain the repair of a brick retaining wall and plans to dig out a foundation for what was to be an underground playhouse for the kids. In short, work that would likely take the entire day.

“So that’s it, then,” Pete finished, “I’ll add some money for your friend, but I’ve got to be off. Phillippa’s here with the kids, so ask her if you need anything. Tools are in the shed, food in the kitchen, bathrooms...”

“Pete.”

“Yeah?”

Billy grinned, “I’ve got it.”

“Right. Bye, then. Good to meet you, Dom.”

Dom nodded and tugged a little nervously on an ear as Pete left.

“That’s Pete.” Billy told him, grinning, as though it ought to explain everything. Then he headed off toward the garden shed, leaving Dom to follow.

Dom didn’t know what to think. It wasn’t even nine o’clock yet and Billy was already exhausting Dom’s reserves of patience.

“You brought me here to do _yard work_?” Dom finally asked, thoroughly dumbfounded as Billy picked through rakes, hand trowels, and buckets.

“Yeah. Can you grab that spade? To your left, Dom. Thanks.”

“Are you fucking insane?”

Billy stood up and faced him with a bucket full of tools and an expression that had lost it’s carefree exterior. “I brought you because I wanted you to see that my life isn’t quite as rich and easy is you think it is. I live out there on that yacht and I sing like I haven’t a care in the world about anything, but when I need money, Dominic, I work for it. This was planned long before you showed up, but I sort of hoped you’d count it in on our deal. If you want to be on your holiday where you sit and relive all your past mistakes and refuse to just move on and _live_ , go on. Phillippa will call the car back.”

That left Dom gaping while Billy turned back out to the group of young trees and set his tools down. The Scot’s accent had gone thick with... what? Anger? Exasperation? Something, during that little speech, something Dom had yet to hear in his voice, something he certainly hadn’t been prepared for. The immediate reaction was currently bubbling acidly in his throat, his own anger at Billy’s assumptions. But worse that that, what he felt coloring his cheeks with humiliation as his watched the singer carry two saplings to the eastern side of the yard, was that Billy was right. He had half a mind to do what Billy suggested, walk away and put an end to this friendship, relationship, thing, whatever the fuck it was. It would be done and Dom would spend the rest of his fucking vacation – he huffed at himself – spend the rest of his vacation doing just exactly what Billy said he’d do. He couldn’t even pretend it wasn’t true.

His pride wanted to march over there and knock Billy down a few notches, tell him about how many greasy floors he’d scrubbed and sleepless nights studying for exams he’d spent _working_ to get here, to this very place, the fucking capital of the Other Side of the World. He wanted to knock Billy down about that comment on how his life isn’t easy, how he knew plenty of people, mostly kids, whose lives were downright horrid. But he couldn’t now, knowing that Billy had been there, living in the damn London Underground for however long. Dom had had pride in his work once, even back then, the pride was knowing that one day he’d be here, in New Zealand, living that lifelong dream. And there was only one way to pick it back up and make Billy see that he still had some of that pride left.

When he rounded the shed to the east, Billy was knelt on the ground, dirtying the knees of his jeans and mixing mortar in a bucket, adding water from the spigot behind the house. Dom approached the retaining wall where the young trees leaned at ten feet intervals. He thrust the spade through the grass and soil, wrenching it up and piling it nearby. He repeated, two or three more shovels full for good measure, and then lifted his eyes to see if Billy was watching.

Billy’s face was impassive, but his eyes were warm as they met Dom’s. His lips curled into a little smile before he looked back down at the mud in the bucket.

Dom chuckled to himself as he continued to dig. So Billy had won that little dispute. Dom decided there were going to need to be arguments he’d lay the high and mighty little bastard out with, and spent the next several minutes trying to think of some before giving up and applying himself to the task at hand.

The digging was hard work. Each hole needed to be about two and a half feet deep and just as wide to accommodate the root ball for each sapling, and the earth became considerably harder the deeper he got.

While digging, Dom discreetly watched Billy as he chiseled old crumbling mortar away to pry broken bricks from the corner of the retaining wall. What had set Billy off like that? Dom felt he had every right to be angry about being wakened and dragged out to do work when he’d barely had any sleep after a very long and drunken night. And there wasn’t any deal anyway, the Twelve Days thing had always been up in the air, terminated at will. And yes, he _was_ on vacation, come to that. Had he not spent half the night watching Billy and Elijah grind into each other and then half the morning grinding into Billy himself in a similar fashion – a situation he likely would not have got himself into if he’d gone to sleep earlier – he’d likely be in better spirits for digging holes in the rock hard, _temperate my arse_ soil in some rich bloke’s back garden. And Billy was older, fuck, by eight years, was it? But not old enough to be one of those who can make it on four hours sleep or less.

He certainly didn’t look like it was wearing on him. Billy was alert and upright, not even yawning. He was dressed as casually as Dom had ever seen him, the sunlight playing over his bare freckled shoulders, clad in somewhat baggy jeans and a white vest very much like the one Elijah wore under his uniform shirt and stripped down to in the club at night. Fucking Elijah, who consistently checked to make sure Dom was looking, whose short fingers gripped Billy’s hipbones like he knew them rather well, slipped around to settle over the double buttons of those tuxedo trousers, thumbs dipping between the heat of skin and worsted wool.

Dom’s gut clenched at that thought, irritated at how easily the little Yankee worked the vulnerable angle, how easily he read people and manipulated them to his own ends, and how quickly people bought it. Billy, the fucking gorgeous photographer, the guy deejaying the club, hell, even Dom had got a taste of it during Elijah’s part in Billy’s Find Me game. Dom hated being had, hated feeling like he was the only one out on secrets. He hated knowing that even though Elijah was after Ace, there was clearly a history between him and Bill, and he fucking loathed that knowing this little piece of trivia frayed his nerves so much.

The photographer was more his type than either of them as it was. Dom liked them tall (Orlando was taller than Elijah, which meant he was tall enough), liked them fit (and fuck, but Orlando was built like a greyhound, all sinew and hard flat planes), and liked them pretty (Ace really ought to be in front of the camera rather than behind it). He liked to know he could pull that, could keep that, and fuck anyone who took a look at him and wondered just how the hell he could land such a catch.

Yet here was Billy, openly watching him as he dug, making Dom distinctly aware that his T-shirt was sticking to him with sweat, making him feel like the tables had turned. _Not going to take it off for you Bill, you got your eyeful this morning_. Dom had never been the catch, a fact he was quite comfortable with, thanks.

Billy did not fit at all. Billy was not extraordinary to look at, and this had not changed since the first time Dom had seen him singing in the lounge. Billy was Dom’s size, no taller, and likely weighed the same. Billy was slender but a little soft, not much definition except in his arms. There was something strange about them, and Dom berated himself for needing to look and look until he finally figured out what exactly it was. The man had quite large biceps and shoulders for his size, and there was strength there, Dom noted as he watched Billy grip a sapling low on the trunk and easily lift it with one hand, though with the root ball it must weigh a good fifty pounds or more. Large upper arms smoothed disproportionately into slender forearms, almost delicate wrists, and those small, slim-fingered hands. Billy’s hands were fine enough to finger pick a complex tune out of a guitar, but his strength seemed to belong to a much larger man.

“Dom, can you help me with this?” Billy asked, his voice back to the soft, friendly smiling tone it always had been, no trace left of the earlier bite.

Dom held the tree straight while Billy shoveled the loose earth back around it, packing it down enough to hold, but loose enough for the tree to breathe and grow in its new space. Dom wondered how often Billy’d come here, how he’d met this Pete to begin with and asked him, now that they were apparently on speaking terms again.

“Pete and his partner took the cruise several years ago on the Britain tour. The kids were still pretty young, Katie just a toddler then. Billy’s the older one. They stayed at home with Phillippa, as she’s their godmother. Takes care of them while Pete’s away at work.”

Billy frowned at the earth as he scooped it, lowering his voice a bit as the two kids had come out to the yard to play, the little girl clutching a plastic doll and the boy pushing a scooter over the short grass. “Far as I know Pete and Fran went on it to try and sort things out, but it didn’t work out and they separated. Fran’s out of the country, but she wanted the kids to stay here, wanted them to grow up and go to school in their native country. She knew Phillippa would look after them.”

Dom knelt to help scoop the remainder of the dirt around the tree. “Sort of a weird way of doing it.”

“Aye, well. They’re were never really married as it was. Fran visits, I guess.”

“What does he do? Pete, I mean, as a job.”

“I don’t really know. He owns a bunch of businesses around town, but what they’re for I’ve never asked. Makes off well enough as far as I can tell.”

Dom stared at Billy. “That’s bollocks, Bill. How can you know this guy like you claim to, and... and take his money without really knowing where it comes from? It could be anything.”

Billy grinned, “Right. Pete’s with the Kiwi mob. It fits, yeah? The big black sedan meets people down at the docks, and if you don’t plant your trees the way the Boss wants, he’ll have you done in. He finds out who you are through me, steals your fortune and erases your identity, real quiet like.”

“That’s not what I meant, arsehole,” Dom laughed. “It’s just that... I don’t think I could trust someone as a friend, or an employer if I don’t know what they do for a living, if it’s something I think they’d be good at, or if they’d be better off doing something else.” _Like parenting their children_.

Dom didn’t particularly like what he knew about Pete now, busy and absent-minded. Kids with a mother and father that were hardly there were something he’d dealt with all too often and the rich were some of the worst offenders. He glanced over to watch the kids play again. The little girl combed her fingers through synthetic hair of her doll, clamped between her bare feet as she sat on the lawn. It made his throat tighten just a little, and he looked away.

“I don’t know what you do for a living, Dominic,” Billy said pointedly, glancing up at Dom from under his eyebrows as he worked. “Should I not trust you, as a friend?”

Dom didn’t deign to answer that, concentrating on the earth under his hands and setting his jaw.

“Billy, give her back!” the little girl’s voice rung out over the lawn, giving Dom an excuse to look at something other than the man working with him.

“Your mate Sean, is he good at what he does?” Billy asked, his voice quiet and directly asking this knowing that it was going to touch a nerve, knowing it would be asking unspoken questions Dom had no intentions of answering. Dom met Billy’s steady gaze again. If Billy couldn’t read his answer there, he was thicker than the dirt they were packing down. _Don’t push it, Bill_.

Bill shrugged nonchalantly, and continued to scoop soil around the root ball, patting it gently.

“Billyeeeee!”

Dom looked away to find the little girl again, this time without her doll. Her brother had taken it and very purposefully flung it into the reeds surrounding the small lily pond at the far corner of the lawn.

“Kids, lunch is ready!” came Phillippa’s voice from the house, and the boy ran past his little sister to eat before she could think of a way to retaliate. “Come wash up!”

Phillippa poked her head out of the door at Dom and Billy, “That’s including big kids, lads. Sandwiches and lemonade.”

Billy grinned at her and tamped down more soil, nodding at Dom, “You go on, I’ll finish this one.”

Dom stood, watching the perplexing scene before him. Katie had taken a few tentative steps toward the pond but stopped, looking back and forth between the house and the reeds where her doll had fallen.

Dom crossed the lawn while Billy finished the tree and poked around in the cattails, parting them carefully, dragonflies fluttering out of his way. At last he found the plastic doll, damp and with algae in the hair, but whole.

He turned back, holding the doll out to her, “Here you are, love. A nice bath is all she needs. I bet you have some pretty clothes for her to change into, and then she’ll be right as rain.”

Katie chewed her lip, smiling shyly, but didn’t approach. Dom moved to stand back up, disturbing more dragonflies from their perches at the sudden movement. One lit on the doll Dom held out, and Katie cringed away.

Dom put two and two together quickly: she was afraid, not of the pond itself but of the bugs that inhabited it. He moved up onto dry lawn and sat down cross-legged in the grass. Gently, he coaxed the dragonfly from the doll onto his finger, and lay the doll in his lap. She’d get her doll back, but not yet.

The dragonfly flicked its delicate wings but didn’t take off. It’s mandible jaws tested the thickness of the skin by his fingernail, not a bite of any substance, but tiny flickering touches like the cling of its feet against the ridges of his fingerprint, exploring, gentle, curiously intelligent. It was bright green in color with tiny flecks of red along the sides of its long body.

“A long time ago, in Japan,” Dom spoke softly, eyes intent on the little bug as though it was the most interesting thing, “The Emperor was bitten by a mean old horsefly. And they hurt, you know, if you see a horse flick its tail or kick its leg, it’s cause horseflies are mean things, always biting. Anyway, the Emperor was bitten, and then a dragonfly came and ate up the horsefly that bit him. The Emperor was so grateful that he renamed the whole of Japan _Akitsushima_ , the Isle of the Dragonflies. His warriors, the Samurai decorated their armor with its image, they liked them so much. Dragons are lucky in Japan, and so dragonflies are too.” Dom flicked his eyes up to see if he had her attention. Katie had taken a step or two forward, warily eying the bug on his hand.

“And where Bill and I come from, pixies keep dragonflies as pets.” He looked around dramatically and leaned closer, “Do you have any pixies round here?”

She looked around as well and shook her head no, but hesitantly, as though she wasn’t quite sure.

“Good thing, if this little bloke belongs to one, I’d probably get a bag full of pixie dust in my face, and I’m terribly allergic. See, pixies are jealous little buggers. They’re always fighting with the fey folk, trying to steal better potions or magic. Pixies love to steal things. Secretly they’ve always been jealous because fairies have wings and can fly, and pixies don’t, and that’s not something they can steal, is it?”

Katie shook her head and came a little closer, enraptured. He slowly turned his hand over and let the bug crawl along the back of his knuckles.

“But one day, a pixie stole a dragonfly egg at the edge of a little pond, like this one, and tended it until it hatched into a baby dragonfly. When the dragonfly grew up to the size of this guy, the pixie found he could ride on its back. Then he could fly, and not only that, but he could fly faster and better than any of the fairies could! Now they keep whole stables full, woven of reeds and thatched with cattail fluff, and they saddle their steeds with rose petals and gossamer threads. And the fairies, well, they can’t even begin to compete anymore, so they leave the pixies alone.”

Katie giggled and came another few steps closer. He held out the bug so she could see.

“Isn’t he pretty? Like a little jewel, almost. Just like a butterfly, but all his pretty colors are on his body, there wasn’t any left to paint his wings. His eyes are so big he can see all around him. He can see you and me and Bill and the house and the pond, all at once. And he doesn’t want to bite you; see how he just tastes with his mouth? He likes people, especially the ones who know about the pixies. All he wants is to eat all the mean bugs that do bite you and make you itch.”

“He’s a nice bug?” she asked.

“Yeah! He just lives in your pond with his friends.” He looked around carefully again. “I’d better let him go, there are probably pixies all over this garden. I’m just too grown-up to see them anymore.”

She giggled again and his raised his hand to let the dragonfly fly away. Katie’s big brown eyes watched it go, no longer fearful, but enchanted. Dom picked up her doll and held it out for her. “Here you are. I bet she knew about the pixies all along.”

Katie took the doll with a sparkling grin and ran off to get her lunch.

“I want Storytime with you every day,” Billy’s smiling voice was beside him as they watched her run inside. “She’s been afraid of that pond the whole time I’ve known her and you come along and cure her of it in a minute. How’d you get to be so good with kids?”

Dom didn’t answer, trying to ignore the pang behind his heart. Not a subject he wanted to get into with Billy. Just a minute ago things had gone bright, back in time, telling fairy stories to a little girl with big dark eyes...

“You work with children,” Billy spoke at length. It wasn’t a question.

Dom dusted his dirty hands on the legs of his shorts and walked away, calling back over his shoulder, “Let’s eat. I’m starving.” _Storytime’s over Bill._

Billy didn’t press the subject. Dom devoured two chicken salad sandwiches and shared a smile with Katie when she finished half her sandwich and disappeared to her room, returning with a selection of dresses for the doll, which she presented to Dom to choose from. Billy watched this exchange silently, grinning when Dom picked the green one to match her dragonfly, but kept his newfound information about Dom’s occupation to himself.

“You said you met Pete while the ship was in Britain,” Dom questioned as they finished planting the trees along the side of the yard in the early afternoon and began digging the foundation of the playhouse. “How is it he’s got you doing yard work years later?”

Billy grinned, “One night after a performance, he sat at the bar with me and had a scotch. Or three. Maybe it was four, I don’t really remember as I had just as many. Anyway, he said to me, ‘Billy, if you’re ever in Wellington, and you need something, give me a ring.’ I don’t really think he meant it, but it came to it that a few years later the Kismet was making its way down here, and I’d got sick and bloody tired of rooming in the bunks, so I traded my pay for the stateroom I’m in. By the time we got down here and did a few turns round the coast, I remembered that offer, and took Pete up on it.”

Dom shook his head and thrust his shovel into a hard patched of dirt, “You’ve got balls, you know, Bill? Most people who made some drunken promise years ago to someone in a bar would tell you to piss off if you just showed up on their doorstep with an I.O.U.”

“Aye, well, now you see why Pete’s a good friend then,” Bill countered matter-of-factly. “Keeps his word. Bean’s come down to help me sometimes, and Elijah too, once. Pete doesn’t mind, he’s happy to pay whoever comes with me.”

“You do his yard work often, then?” Dom asked.

“Yeah, but other things too. Built on one of the additions to the house when Bean helped, fixed up an old collectible car with Lij. Just odd jobs, each time we turn around the country.”

Dom paused to mop the sweat from his face with the front of his shirt. “Bean, ah... Bean told me about when you two met. Where you were living.” He said, suddenly shy about asking.

“Did he now?”

“Yeah.”

Billy glanced at him, but kept digging.

Dom scratched at his neck, “So, you want to tell me about it?”

“Quid pro quo, Dominic,” Billy answered. “I’ll tell you my secrets if you tell me yours. Like why you’re so ashamed of whatever it is you do back in New York.”

Dom shrank inward, closed and steeled himself to Billy’s copper hard gaze. He refused outright to break it, nor to give Billy what he wanted.

“Matter of fact, feels like I’ve been doing all the talking these last few days.” Billy continued, “So this for that, Dom. It’s your turn.”

“Is that what it’s like with Elijah, then?” Dom spoke scathingly. “You give him what he wants if he can’t get it from someone better, and you can’t either? Friends with benefits, right? This for that, Bill.”

Billy’s collected confidence slid right off his face, and Dom held the shock in his eyes fiercely, telling him yes, he’d seen them last night, and more underneath it to boot. Billy looked away first, across the lawn where the children played, and Dom stabbed triumphantly at the earth with his spade. Game, point and match.

“It was a long time ago with him, Dominic,” Billy spoke, much quieter than normal, and suddenly close at Dom’s shoulder, “and it wasn’t... it didn’t... You know how he is.”

Dom stopped digging and turned to face him. “No, I don’t.”

Billy exhaled, rubbing nervously at the back of his neck, which was beginning to burn. “Lij has problems, Dom. He’s a kid, all right? I know he’s all balls and bravado on the outside, but strip the layers off and he’s nothing but a scared kid with a penchant for running away any time things get too rough to handle. He masks it, usually by getting the next unsuspecting prat to coddle him for awhile. And he’s very persuasive.”

Dom snorted irritably and shoved at the earth again, harder.

“But it was only a few times before I figured him out Dominic, and it was a long time ago. Years. I swear it.”

“You still coddle him,” Dom told him, daring him to deny it.

“He still needs it,” was Billy’s retort, “but from a friend Dom, not more. He’s scared and he’s stuck where he is and he needs someone to be there for him when all the shite in his life comes down.” Billy’s voice took back that rare tone of exasperation as he scrubbed a hand through his sweat soaked hair, “I can’t fix people Dominic, but it doesn’t stop me from offering a shoulder to lean on.”

Billy cursed under his breath and shoveled in silence for a bit, and Dom followed suit, basking a little in knowing he’d crawled under Billy’s skin. When Billy strode over and tried to take Dom’s spade out of his hands, Dom fought him a little until he met Billy’s tired but soft eyes.

“It’s getting late, Dom. We ought to go. I want a drink before we go back to the ship.”

After putting the tools away, Billy divvied up the cash in the envelope in the kitchen which amounted to about three hundred New Zealand Dollars each. Dom felt awkwardly as though most of that should have been Billy’s since Pete was his friend, but Billy shut him up by pulling out two tumblers and a bottle of Glenfiddich from the cabinet.

“I got this for Pete last Christmas,” he explained, grinning, “It’s only fair that I should drink it, since he doesn’t.”

They shared a silent toast to the garden and drank, then Billy refilled the glasses after he’d called for the car to take them back and they to drank that as well. The liquor was smooth and smoky and ran through Dom’s veins, amplifying the ache in his shoulders and back from the day's work.

Dom was feeling tired and hungry and awkward with the silence as Billy walked with him back on the ship, down the lift and to his suite.

“Gonna be sore tomorrow,” he said, just for something to say as he entered the room, leaving the door open for Billy to come in if he chose and not bothering with the light as the curtains let in enough of the darkening sunset to see by.

“Mmm-hm. You can see Miranda about that, she’s a fantastic masseuse.” Billy returned, slipping back into professional at-your-service mode, and Dom clenched his teeth but said nothing. He thought he might shower, slough off this day and order food in from room service, then catch up on the sleep he’d missed, once Billy finally left him alone.

“Today didn’t go so well as yesterday.” Billy said to the still air.

“Not really.”

“I’m sorry Dominic. I never meant to make you upset. I push, sometimes, and I know I shouldn’t, I know it’s kind of...”

“Don’t worry about it, Billy,” Dom said quietly, but the tension in his voice stuck. He just wanted Billy to leave, get it over with.

“I just wanted to know you,” Billy continued in the dim light, as Dom used a thumbnail to scrape dirt from the silver of a ring. “I just wanted you to see that I’m not... playing you like... like Elijah does with everybody, you know? I just like you.”

Billy tucked his hands in his pockets and leaned back against the narrow strip of wall between the short hallway to the door and the bathroom. Dom sighed and strode back up to him in the darkening twilight, wanting Billy to be able to see that he really meant his next words. “I’ll be honest then, Bill. You aren’t the sort of guy I go for.”

Bill’s eyes flickered, “You’re not my type either.”

Dom nodded. Settled, then. This idea of Billy’s wasn’t going anywhere and furthermore, shouldn’t, since at the end of this Dom would go back to his apartment in New York, and Billy would stay here and sing to another crowd of vacationers, take a turn around another set of cities somewhere, searching for that old guitar and another fuck-up to apply his shoulder to. End of story.

So it must of have been a big wave that tilted the floor, the ship, the entire fucking universe, to make Dom press a hand on the wall above Billy’s shoulder and kiss him with wild, terrified abandon.


	10. Chapter 10

_February 25th, Saturday  
Wellington, New Zealand  
7:01 pm_

Fucker of a swell, that was. The obvious solution was to pull back, mutter an apology and blame it on drink or something, push Billy down that short hallway and out the door and never speak of it again. Dom was about to, just as soon as he could relay the message from his brain to his central nervous system and back the fuck up.

Any minute now.

Billy made a quiet purr of contentment, opened his velvet mouth to let Dom in. The knuckles of his left hand came up to brush ever so softly along Dominic’s jaw from ear to chin and all avenues of backpedaling were blocked off completely.

“Ah god,” Dom gasped, voice betraying any doubt that he might not really be the most together person in the room. He pulled his mouth back but left his forehead resting where it was, unable to pull away, because Billy’s fingers had scrubbed back up against the grain of fine stubble and were now drifting down his neck to the stuttering pulse.

“Shaking,” Billy whispered, and Dom nodded weakly, wondering if Billy meant that he himself was shaking or that Dom was. Vibrating was a little more accurate in Dom’s case. Billy’s hand flattened at Dom’s collarbone and swept slowly down to press over the throbbing in his chest, while the other came up, slid under Dom’s ear and threaded its way through the hair at his nape and promptly continued shredding whatever semblance of control Dom was clinging to. He moaned, nerves on fire, eyes slammed shut. _Block it out, pull away, bad bad bad idea,_ his mind said, but his body refused outright.

“You’re so afraid,” Billy’s voice was quiet, lower than ever, yet imploring, “I wish you weren’t. How long since anyone did this, eh? Touched you? Meant it?”

Dom didn’t want to admit it. Didn’t want to admit that he’d withdrawn so completely, that it had truly been so long since he’d been with anyone who gave a fuck what his name was and where he came from. “I don’t remember,” he whispered, hardly audible.

Billy shifted up off of the wall, slowly, as though trying to gather up a flighty, nipping animal. Pressing his whole body close, he circled both arms around Dom’s neck and murmured against his lips, “I’ll make up for it. Just let me. Wanna touch you everywhere, Dom.”

Those last words had frayed edges on the calm control the Scot was maintaining, but combined with the warmth and smell and press of Billy, they unraveled Dom completely. His hands unconsciously found their way to Billy’s hips, his mouth recapturing soft lips, the release of pent-up tension leaving him in a shuddering rush of breath.

It took approximately two and a half seconds of Billy’s tongue sweeping his mouth for Dom to decide he’d spent the last four days completely and utterly fooling himself. Because Billy was ordinary, and Billy was irritating, and Billy was not his type by a long shot. But right this second, Billy was quite possibly the sexiest thing he’d ever come in contact with. Contact. _Yeah_. Dom’s hands slid over the gritty denim from Billy’s hips to his arse and pulled him flush, backing him into the wall just for that added little push. Billy’s mouth was whisky-flavoured, smooth and sweet like molten caramel. He kissed like air was stifling and Dom was breath, but Dom need air, needed skin, salt, touch... _Jesus_ , needed contact like this...

“Dom...” Billy murmured, weakly behind a dragged inhale, and then stronger as Dom changed tact and nibbled over his jaw and down his neck. “Will you still talk to me tomorrow?”

“Mmnh.”

“Gonna....” Bill shuddered, his head thumping against the wall as Dom latched on to his adam’s apple, “M’gonna need something a little more affirmative than that.”

Dom simultaneously squeezed the handful of buttock in his right hand, tongued a nipped patch of flesh under Billy’s ear and rolled his hips up against the heat between them. Billy made a relenting gasp that sounded like a garbled “ohfuckyeah” and his knees abruptly buckled. Dom sank to the floor with him, a tangle of legs and clutching limbs, mouths searching and sharing breath and half-finished pleas.

Billy kissed with his whole body, arms gathering and clutching, mouth relentless and almost chanting between kisses, “Let me let me let me oh god Dom please...” Dom felt himself turned and clutched as Billy leaned back, pulled Dom to sit against his chest in the cradle of his knees. When he felt Billy’s lips against the nape of his neck and his hands circle around to push the grungy cotton of his shirt up to his armpits, he surrendered, squeezed his eyes shut and wrapped a hand around one of Billy’s thighs, fingers clutching in handful of denim at the back of a bent knee.

“Wanted to touch you that first night with the whales,” the Scot murmured, voice now low and back in control, if a little shaky, “Wanted to just sit up and kiss you right there, Dom. Wanna make you feel so good.” His fingers stretched the cotton to nibble and lick his way up bare skin from Dom’s shoulder to ear, sharp teeth forcing a moan from Dom’s throat. His hands slicked down over the quivering muscles of his belly to the waist of his cargos as Billy breathed in his ear, “Can I?”

“God yeah please, _please_ ,” Dom panted and bucked up as the hands yanked down the zip and shoved the loose material down to his thighs, then teasing, one petting and gripping a hipbone while the other circled back up to worry a nipple. Dom keened and arched into it.

Billy’s mouth worked, muttering between kisses and tastes over his shoulder. “Fucking gorgeous Dom, so beautiful, god I need to...” the words were muffled as he pressed his face into Dom’s neck and his right hand finally gripped Dom’s cock, setting into an immediate rhythm that had Dom gasping and pushing his hips up to counter it. The motion pulled a hard groan from Billy as Dom’s backside gave his own hot erection much needed friction in his jeans. “Mmmmfuck...” he growled and set his teeth not so gently into the taut muscle of Dom’s shoulder, readjusted his grip and added a quick swivel over the head with every upstroke. Dom’s panting escalated to needy huffs of sound.

“Good?” Billy asked, to which Dom groaned in reply, and Billy grinned against skin. “You’re so hard for me,” he purred in Dom’s ear again, accent thick, “I dreamed this, bringing you off. Watching you. Came in my sheets like a fucking teenager Dom, what you do to me.” His right hand slowed, nearly stopped, while the left pulled away from the peaked nipple and down to wind his fingers with Dom’s free hand where it scrambled for purchase on the carpet by Billy’s outstretched thigh. The right hand squeezed him harder, stroked up achingly slow, knocking the air from Dom’s lungs and pulling his whole center upwards, then back to do it again, Billy’s voice crooning low right against his ear in an unbroken litany, “Wanna see it for real, my hands on you, see you crack, see you break, come apart all over me, Dom do it do it...”

And Dom did, cried out and bucked, coming in hard spurts over Billy’s fist and his own belly, held tight in Billy’s grip through the shockwaves until he sagged, boneless against him.

When Dom came back to himself Billy was still clutching him close, mouth languidly pressing kisses over the flesh he could reach, shoulder, neck, ear, and cheek, until Dom turned to meet it, unwinding his hand from Bill’s to circle up, pull him closer and deepen it, taste.

Billy’s watch beeped.

Dom squirmed around to better reach, feeling Billy absolutely quiver against him, and pulled back enough to really look at his face. The Scot’s eyes were glazed damn near black in the dark, open and completely soul-bearing as he rested his head against the wall, struggling to slow his breathing. Billy hrmphed as Dom shifted closer, to rest against his front, hip pressed against Bill’s still confined erection, hard and insistent. Dom pressed forward to kiss what he could reach without moving, the sweaty skin of Billy’s neck, and let his own hand slide up to a thigh, drawing a shudder. “Want me to?” he asked, his own voice gravelled.

Billy stopped Dom’s hand with his own, laying it over Dom’s but leaving it where it was, and squeezed his eyes shut to collect himself. “No... _Yes_ , god yes, but...” he gestured idly to the watch which had beeped again, “Work. Have to go entertain you paying bastards.”

“You’re going to work _now_?” Dom chuckled and Billy did too.

“No, but I smell like a yak, I’ve got to shower first,” he met Dom’s eyes, showing his intentions with no shame. “Think of you, what you’re offering. It’s worked so far.”

Dom’s mind was fuzzy in the aftermath of his orgasm, the scent of Billy and sweat and sex making him feel sated and giddy at the same time. He wriggled his hip against Bill’s groin and buried his face in the older man’s neck. “Shower with me and you won’t have to do the thinking,” he purred and tongued an earlobe.

“Nghfuck, Dommeh. If you don’t let me leave I’m going to explode.”

Dom continued his ministrations, “Mm-hmm.”

“Never get to the lounge at all.”

“Hm-mmm.”

“Ian’ll skin me alive and hang me from the stern for the sharks to eat.”

Dom closed his teeth over the tendon in Billy’s neck.

“ _Off!_ ” Billy shoved, pinning Dom to the floor with one hand and fingering the nip on his skin gingerly with the other. Dom eyed it with a smug look. _People are going to see that_ , the thought flicked between them. “Fucker,” Billy accused, grinning back.

Dom blinked sleepily, watched Billy’s grin slowly disappear above him, still breathing heavily, eyes shining with naked want. As Billy lay a hand softly against Dom’s cheek it felt like the polarity shifted, Dom was pulled sharply back to reality. The Scot’s face blurred closer above his, so close, his breath warm and sweet. Dom shut his eyes and whispered “Bill...” before he was being kissed again, falling into the taste, the press of a body against his own.

Billy’s watch beeped very close to Dom’s ear, and this time Billy growled with a ferocious irritation into Dom’s mouth before pulling completely away and standing up, hefting Dom to his feet as well. Dom was seriously considering just pushing Billy down on the bed and seeing if he could get another noise like that one, but Billy politely hitched up and rebuttoned his shorts for him, then backed towards the door instead. Dom trailed him, not quite willing to let this sudden connection go.

“Come see me?” Billy asked, pulling the door open with a placating smile, “I’ll sing a song for you?”

Dom snorted, because it was an absurdly romantic and not to mention girly gesture, but it made him tingle warmly and he grinned back. Billy reached up and lightly slid a finger along the outer corner of Dom’s eye with a peculiar smile on his face before backing out the door. He glanced down and shoved both fists into the pockets of his dirty jeans to make some sort of an attempt to hide the obvious bulge there, grinning accusingly at Dom. “See you later.”

And he was gone.

Dom leaned against the wall in the dazed silence, hearing the faint whir of the ship, the muffled sound of voices in other rooms, the splash of waves against the bow. This felt like coming down from the strangest high, his body exhausted and itchy, but his mind a sudden frenzy of questions.

Fuck. Did that just happen?

One glance down at himself said yeah, it most fucking definitely had, shirt soiled with dirt, sweat, and now his own come. Dom thumped the back of his head against the wall. And once more to hear the hollow sound of it.

He pulled the shirt off numbly, following it with the shorts. He did not glance in the mirror in the bathroom, opting to jerk the shower on hot and let it sting over his skin. Just when the hell had Billy gotten to him? Jesus, Dom wasn’t a schoolboy, it had been a long, long time since he had little control over his actions. He wanted to feel taken advantage of, but he had initiated it, he may as well have written it on one of those postcards from the desk with a self-addressed stamped envelope. _Billy, fancy a shag? RSVP_.

He scrubbed himself, enjoying the way the dirt scraped over his skin with the soap. Dom didn’t kiss men when he was out for a casual one-off, and most of the time they didn’t kiss back. It was simple, clean and efficient. This shouldn’t have been any different. But he’d kissed Billy, kissed him and then couldn’t stop kissing him. It was like heroin, instant and unimaginably addictive and scared him to the core.

He knew something stupid would happen, he knew Billy would eventually do something to break him down, he knew dancing with Billy last night was a bad idea, but it was just so easy. And fuck, he _liked_ Billy, he was a fine guy, a mate even, but that was just the thing. Dom knew Billy wanted this, but it seemed like so much fucking trouble to go through for a shag, Christ, unreciprocated at that. Dom had in his post-lust haze offered to, it was the polite thing to do after all, but Billy had said no, like it was...fuck.

 _Fuck_. Dom gritted his teeth. Billy had said no, like it wasn’t necessary, like he had provided some sort of _service_. Dom let the shampoo sting his eyes, feeling utterly fucking disgusted with himself, knowing that Billy was likely wanking in his own shower right now, thinking of him, and Dom’s prick did _not_ attempt to perk up at that thought. Fuck fuck fuck _fuck_. This was such a mistake.

Rinsed and dried, he sat on the bed and stared at his open suitcase. Open, where Billy had pulled his clothes for the day. He’d gone along and yes, he’d spent a large part of the day watching Billy, thinking about him, wondering just what the fuck it was about him that rubbed him the wrong way. Or the right way? Jesus Christ, yeah, Billy had done that too. Rubbed him every way, it seemed like.

Dom got up and pulled the first shirt from the closet, a dark brown dress shirt and a lighter greyish pair of slacks. Was he dressing up? Sure, had dressed a lot more nicely than usual on this trip anyway, look the part of a bloke who ought to be on a cruise. Button downs, slacks and ties. And Billy had said he’d sing for Dom. Stupid fucking gestures. People didn’t do that.

Dom wasn’t the catch. He never had been. He was an odd looking bloke, counted on his charisma to reel in what he wanted, but Dom didn’t need anyone to point out his presence had been lacking for a good year and a half now. Dom’s mind remembered smatterings of Billy’s voice when... well, before. Billy had said Dom was gorgeous, beautiful. That couldn’t have been right. Dom was the fisherman, he was used to flattering others with such words. And Billy wasn’t his type, Billy was not those things. So what the bloody fuck was he dressing up for?

He yanked the tie off. Not dressing up. Not going to do this. This was a ridiculous game, and Dom had got himself a hand-job, and that was fine. He could pretend it was clean and efficient and be done with it.

Dinner. He could have himself a light dinner in the cafe, a soup or something and then curl up in bed and not look at the area of the dark carpet that was now dusted with a film of dirt. He picked up the service phone and told Connie ( _How may I help you Mr. Monaghan?_ ) to have someone vacuum it while he was away ( _Right away, Sir_ ). That way it hadn’t happened, like the dreams where Billy and his tuxedo showed up and tormented him in his sleep.

Dom picked at his artichoke barigoule for forty-five minutes. It tasted wonderful, but his stomach felt knotted up and as though it was being pulled in two directions. It was cowardly, what he was thinking of doing, and there was no way to avoid Billy for the next eight days, half of which would be at sea with no stops. Billy knew he was a bloody coward, he’d even said so. Dom was afraid. It was just too confusing. If all Billy wanted was a bed partner, he could have just said from the beginning, a no-strings-attached agreement. Lord knows Dom could do with a long week of shagging, but there was the way Billy was initiating it that didn’t fit with that plan.

“Sir?”

He jerked up at the tentative question from his waitress, a rather sweet soft spoken girl. “Is the barigoule... satisfactory? Can I get you anything else?”

“Erm, no. Yes, it’s good, but... I uh... I think I’m just feeling a little... sea sick.”

“Shall I call someone for you?”

Dom nearly laughed. Enough fucking service, please. On second thought, call Billy... excuse me, _William_ Boyd and have him put his intentions in writing plainly, since we’re on to chivalry now. With a little check list at the bottom saying yes or no. Simple. Elementary. “No. Thanks. I’ll just...”

He left, wandering along the deck and then his stomach growled. Wouldn’t it be great if his mind and his body would just catch up with each other? He just wished he knew what he wanted. He wished Billy wouldn’t push and give at the same time, wished he wasn’t so easy to fall into step with most of the time and then turned around with the flirtatious jokes and the soft green eyes.

The Indigo Lounge was bright and inviting, light sparkling through the frosted doors and the sound of a song muffled within. Billy said he’d sing a song for him, and he was singing something slow and rich and classic from inside the Lounge, the tinkling of piano and the brassy sweet moan of the sax accompanying his strong tenor.

 _Light up your face with gladness  
Hide every trace of sadness  
Although a tear may be ever so near  
That’s the time you must keep on trying  
Smile, what’s the use of crying  
You’ll find that life is still worthwhile  
If you just smile._

Dom sighed and leaned against a wall out of the doorman’s sight so he could close his eyes and listen without having to go inside. It’s not as though Billy was actually singing to him anyway, he knew they probably had a playlist ready for each night of the entire cruise. Billy was not singing to him, and it was stupid idealistic notion to cling to.

 _But he wanted to_. He knew he couldn’t deny it anymore. There was something about the Scot that was in his bloodstream now. Billy scraped along his nerves and he _liked_ it. Liked his words, his smell, his mouth, his warmth, touch that made Dom’s skin feel like butter on a hot knife...

Fuck. He punched the down button on the lift. Another floor, another deck to walk around. He had too much to deal with, he didn’t need this. He needed to go home and throw himself back into work, find something to concentrate on, work through this grief. Shiloh was not his and never had been, and Sean would help, and he could talk to Cate about maybe working different cases, older kids. The harder, street toughened ones that needed to be listened to, that wanted to be heard and respected, not saved. He didn’t need any more little kids with sweet innocent faces for him to fucking lie to, telling stories about wonderful fantasy places that didn’t really exist, mermaids and fairies and...

 _Fuck!_ He had not even said goodbye to Katie. He had connected with her in some little way, a girl with a doll and a dad that wasn’t there, he had given her something. Just a little thing to remember, and then he hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye. He’d been too occupied with Billy to remember he should have.

He wrenched open the first unlocked door he came to and leaned against the wall in the dim half light. There should have been closure. He knew full fucking well that his job demanded he enter the lives of these kids quietly, help them in what ever way he could and then remove himself in the most gentle way possible, tell them he would not see them again, and that he wished them all the best. And he hadn’t fucking done it right, one more time.

Weight machines and ellipticals threw strange shadows in the unoccupied gym. There was a mat on the wall he leaned against, and it felt good to drive his fist into it, two, three times. The scrape of the rough texture over his knuckles felt good, the bite of his own nails into his palm, a fine reminder of what a brilliant fucking failure he was.

He didn’t cry. Dom wasn’t the crying sort. On isolated occasions, sure, but right now he just wanted to wallow in his misery. It was too much. What the fuck did Billy even see in him, like this? Dom wouldn’t want his own fucking company, he couldn’t fathom why Billy was scrambling for it. It was better off for Billy to get on with his own wonderful life. Dom wouldn’t be here forever, even on the ever fucking vacation he didn’t even want anymore. Billy was a nice guy, he’d overcome his own troubles, whatever they had been. He had places to go and friends and happiness. Billy deserved a lot more than Dom could give.

 _11:42 pm_

A plan slowly formulated as he rubbed absently at the raw skin of his knuckle, walking back along the top deck. The ship had left port late, staying in Wellington for the longest of any of the stops, and the mountainous landscape sparkled with the lights of the city at night as it floated away. The next stop was Picton, then two days of sea around the west coast. He could tell the Captain he’d be getting off there, take a ferry back to Wellington and find a way to bump his return tickets up. He could make up an excuse, pretend his mum was ill or something. He could tell Billy the same, say he was sorry, wish him the best on that guitar.

Dom strode silently along the deck. Bill would understand. Maybe he’d realize the strangeness of it or maybe he wouldn’t buy it at all, but it was for the best.

Slowly rounding the corner, Dom saw a lone figure leaning on the railing at the end of the sun terrace, the moonlight etching silver along the bright shoulders of the tuxedo shirt. Dom stuffed his hands in his pockets to stifle the nervous need to scratch at his hair and strode up between the chairs. He didn’t need to speak, Billy already knew he was there.

“We played well tonight. You should’ve heard Andy, I think he was channeling Red Holloway.” Billy continued to look out across the black expanse of ocean, the lumpy grey shape of the landmass drifting farther and farther away. “I... erm. I didn’t see you there.”

Dom crossed the last few steps and rested his elbows on the rail as well, not looking up at the singer. “Yeah. I needed to think.”

Bill looked down at his hands where he picked at the dirt still caught under his nails. “I’ve mucked this whole thing up now, haven’t I?” he asked, quietly.

Dom studied the way Billy’s chestnut hair made spikes around his ear, curling against skin he now knew smelled like citrus and almonds and tasted like the sea. Knowledge he shouldn’t have, not now. He needed to get this over with, finished, closed.

“I... this...” Dom sighed and started again, “It didn’t... You don’t go about making friends for an unattached fuck Bill, you can’t...” Fuck. The words were not coming out the way he had rehearsed in his head.

“Is that what it was?” Billy asked, the quiet of his tone more foreboding than if he’d become visibly angry.

“I don’t know. Jesus Bill, I’m leaving!” Dom’s own voice was edging out of control. He relieved a hand from its confines and began twisting the hair behind an ear. “I’m going to be leaving, and you’re practically... courting me like some dime-store romance novel, like it means something. You make everything mean something and I _can’t_... do this now, I can’t...” _get attached_.

Billy nodded, his lips together in a tight line before he took his hands from the rail and turned to face Dom. “Would it mean anything more if you were staying?”

Dom shook his head, “What difference does it make, I’m not-”

“It makes a difference if you’re basing this on the time we’ve got,” Billy interrupted. “Would it mean the same thing if it was you and me, us, doing whatever it is we’re doing, for an indefinite number of days?”

Dom’s head gave another involuntary shake, but his mouth opened and closed soundlessly. Couldn’t let the words come.

Billy stepped closer. “Would it have meant the same thing to you if you were leaving tomorrow?” He didn’t wait for an answer, just pressed on, “It meant something, regardless of time, or you wouldn’t be here asking. Am I right?”

Dom blinked, remembering the way Billy’s words had slipped all over him like silk, they way his hands sparked a fire on any bit of skin they touched. The way Billy looked at him afterwards. And now, his eyes rich in the darkness, full of so much of _something_ that turned Dom’s insides warm. And then the word came unbidden, like a yielding sigh,“Yes.”

“Good. Because I meant it to.” Billy sighed as well, and didn’t hide the shake in it. “That means something to me, no matter what time it is.”

It was scary that Bill was so blatant like that, so capable and unafraid of throwing his feelings out on the table. And no matter how hard Dom tried to dissociate, the fact remained that Billy was right. It had meant something, it had felt like something, a connection he was completely terrified of. And still, out of habit, he stiffened when Billy cautiously moved the remaining distance into his space. But it wasn’t fear of Billy’s closeness, he knew that much when Billy’s neat fingers made his breath catch as they slid up and down the line of his jaw. He tilted automatically into it. He _needed_ it.

“Jesus Dom. You ache to be touched and held and kissed like it means _everything_ , I can see it,” Billy murmured, and Dom shivered at the words grazing warm at his cheek. “I want to give you that, if you can just let it be what it is.”

Dom closed his eyes and leaned forward, letting his forehead fall against Billy’s, afraid of what breaking the connection would feel like. _Will_ feel like when he left, because whether he left tomorrow or a week from now, he would have to leave. “At the end of this I go back home.”

Billy tilted his head up minutely, just enough to brush the point of his nose to Dom’s and get him to open his eyes again. “We’ll face that when it comes, right? Dom, if it’s the future you’re afraid of, then you’re afraid of nothing. It’s not there, you’ve no way of knowing what will happen. And if you’re afraid of the past, then you’re afraid of monster under the bed, there’s nothing you can do but tuck your feet in and go to sleep.”

Billy’s hand came up to slide soothingly along Dom’s jaw, behind his ear and Dom leaned into it, his own hands finding Billy’s hips. His brows knitted at Billy’s last words. “M’not afraid of my past, but... there are things I regret and... and it’s too late to make them right,” he said cryptically, but it was as far as he was willing to go right now.

“Then we’ll have to work on making your past less regrettable from now on.” Billy said with a careful grin. Dom managed a little smile at that and Billy sighed, once again, shakily. “Can I take you inside now?”

“Where?”

Fingers pushed up through the hair in Dom’s nape, “Somewhere I can kiss you like they do in those novels you mentioned. Do this whole seduction thing properly.”

 _11:59pm_

Outside his room Dom struggled to get his keycard facing the right way with Billy’s lips relentlessly gentle on the back of his neck in the deserted hallway. Fuck Billy and his ability to change Dom’s plans, to make him feel something else that wasn’t like shame and guilt, change his mind in less than fifteen minutes about catching a standby flight. Fuck Dom for not having an ounce of resistance. He aimlessly tried to fit the card into the slot without success until Billy’s hand slid down his arm to help, the motion so reminiscent of the way it had happened earlier that evening, when Billy’s fingers slid down to clench with his own on the plush carpeting just on the inside of this door. Dom shivered, and the door finally clicked open.

Dom reached for Billy in the dark as the door clicked shut, senses once again on overload, but Billy caught his hands and brought them both up to kiss the knuckle on each one, his lips triggering a burning reminder on the grazed skin of the right one. He stepped away and turned the light on, then dimmed it to something like candlelight. “I want to do this right this time, Dom. I mean it.”

When Billy reached for him again it was like falling into gravity, the way those fingers cupped his jaw and pushed the day and night’s worth stubble forward, then back, the way their foreheads met, the way his own hands curled around hipbones at just the right height.

It was the kissing though, when Billy nuzzled in and initiated with the same gentle open mouthed nibbling as he’d employed on the back of his neck, the soft press and pull of suction when it deepened, the taste of Billy in his mouth. Billy’s mouth was soft and sharp, the sweet scrape of his pointed teeth over Dom’s tongue and lips, the fire-taste of whiskey and mint beneath. Dom was reeled in before he could tell he was hooked.

Without breaking contact, Billy walked Dom backward towards the bed, the nudge of the mattress at Dom’s calves stopping them. Dom’s hands pulled Billy’s shirt tails from his trousers, seeking skin, sliding around the waistband to thumb open the two buttons.

“Mmm. Dom, let me,” Billy spoke against his mouth, “Let me do it. I want to... Let me do everything.”

“Want you naked, Billy,” Dom whispered urgently.

“Yeah.” Billy’s fingers slid away to work on his own shirt, which handled the small shiny black nubs at an efficient pace, and Dom helped by tugging the warm linen down both arms. Dom’s jaw worked loose and languid under Billy’s unbelievable mouth, watering at the taste of Billy’s tongue searching and tangling with his own. The loss of it was almost startling when Billy broke away to skin the tuxedo trousers down, heeling off the shining wingtips and socks. He wore silk boxers which Dom appreciated for the slippery texture beneath his hands, the way the fabric’s sheen highlighted the rounded curve of Billy’s arse and clung against the press of his erection.

“Off,” Dom growled, grabbing a handful of silk on each side and tugging expectantly. Billy grinned against his mouth and abruptly shoved him off balance, leaving Dom bouncing slightly on the mattress with a slightly shocked look on his face. Billy stepped out of the boxers while Dom sat up, and there was a pause in the frenzy in Dom’s head.

Billy was naked, unashamedly very aroused before him, skin warm pink where the sun bore down the most, dusting of hair along his chest and belly throwing shadows in the low light. Billy was stripped bare of the perfection this ship clad him in, faults on display. Dom reached a tentative hand out and lay it flat against Billy’s chest, feeling beneath the warmth of skin, Billy’s breath heavy and his heartbeat fast.

“Now you,” Billy said, a smile playing at his lips as he sank to his knees on the carpet, his eyes warm in the low light, never leaving Dom’s face. Dom drew his hands up immediately to unbutton his own shirt, but Billy pulled them down again, whispering, “Let me do it.”

But instead of the buttons he went for Dom’s shoes first, untying the laces and pulling them off, then each sock. Then lifting his eyes back to Dom’s he held one foot against his bare thigh and caressed his fingers up the sole, steadily applying pressure along the arch. Dom gasped and found his fingers clenching into the bedspread on either side of his hips while Billy drew a finger along the sensitive underside of the toes, and then repeated it on the other foot. He ended with an exceeding gentle nibble on Dom’s big toe that made Dom’s ears go fiercely hot when a whimpering noise fell from his throat. Jesus. Dom didn’t remember telling Billy about that particular little kink, or any of them for that matter.

Billy slid between Dom’s parted thighs to swallow the noise, and Dom hungrily chased his tongue, anxious for another taste.

“I like this shirt,” Billy paused to say, thumbing the buttons down.

“What?” Dom asked dumbly, now having a hard time putting more words together than _Billy, fuck_ , and _now_.

“This shirt. It makes your eyes so...” Billy stopped talking, peeling the chocolate cotton away, “...fucking something,” he finished with a chuckle.

“What?” Dom was more confused, but Billy was kissing him again, and that was fine, that was really good.

“Wanna make this so good for you Dom.” Billy’s hands slid down Dom’s chest and stomach to his trousers, eager to get rid of the offending material.

“’S good Bill, God.” Dom whimpered, hips rising in an attempt to gain even a little friction from Billy’s hands pulling down the zip and bucking further at Billy’s reaction when he discovered Dom wasn’t wearing pants.

“Fuck, Dom, you... _oh_.” Billy moaned and ground his own cock into the side of the mattress, his forehead crashed against Dom’s chest in a fervent effort to regain control of himself.

“Bill...” Dom tugged at Billy’s hair to get his attention and Billy yanked the slacks down and off in a hasty move that left Dom’s arse stinging from the friction. He actually whined “ _Billy..._ ” in his urgency.

“Up, on the bed, Dommeh,” Billy said, standing up himself, “Up on the pillow... ooh, _fuck_ , ah!”

It seemed only fair. Billy had done all the work up to now and then he stood up and his cock was _right there_ where Dom could get to it, flushed dark and proud and leaking steadily. Dom couldn’t help it, he had to taste, and Billy tasted as heady and fantastic as he smelled.

But after only a moment Billy’s fist tugged at Dom’s hair. “Dom. Dommeh, you’ve got to stop... unh, stop...” Dom made a resisting grunt and sucked harder, which rewarded him with a long moan before Billy jerked forcefully on his hair.

Dom slipped off and glared up, “I want to.”

Billy pushed him back, nudging him up the bed to the pillows so he could crawl up between Dom’s thighs. “I want to more.”

Dom hesitated for just a second taking in the wicked, nearly boyish grin on the older man’s face and laughed. Billy chuckled too, crawling up to press his weight down over Dom, who inhaled suddenly at the heat and the prickle of Billy’s chest hair against his nipples. It occurred to him with strange clarity that he’d never slept with any man that had more body hair than he did, and that was... interesting. Particularly coupled with Billy’s teeth and tongue doing really fascinating things to the sensitive area on his throat where his beard growth ended, and the hot press of Billy cock making a wet smear in the crease of his thigh, and low rumble of Billy’s voice at his ear.

“Want to suck you off, Dommeh, make you come in my mouth. Need to taste you.” Billy murmured hotly against his skin, pausing to bite the knob of a collarbone, lick firmly over a nipple, dip his tongue into Dom’s navel, use his teeth to lightly tug the line of hair leading down, down.

“Holy shit Billy,” Dom shivered, his fingers groping blindly for Billy’s shoulder, then wound in his hair. “Oh, fuck.”

Dom let his shoulders sag and his head drop into the pillows as Billy’s wicked tongue flicked beneath his foreskin, wet his lips and then sank down to take him as far as he could, gripping Dom’s hips and wordlessly pulling and pushing, telling Dom he was free to move at will.

Dom did, planting his heels on the bed with a groan and pumping up into the hot cavern of Billy’s mouth, shivering at the twirl of tongue over the glans at each pass. He knew this wouldn’t take long, and when Billy moved a hand and pressed the knuckles of his fist behind Dom’s balls, applying pressure to the whole space between his perineum to his puckered hole, he was there, crying out half-finished words as he shot into Billy’s throat.

He gulped for breath, knowing Billy wasn’t finished, the Scot’s sweaty head pillowed on his groin and breath hot over his spent, over-sensitive cock. He wanted Billy to come this time, not leave it like he was owed and Billy wasn’t.

“Bill...” Dom tried, his own voice roughened, “Billy?”

Billy shifted and Dom could now see he had turned slightly on his side in the space between his legs, fisting himself quickly.

“So fucking good, Dommeh,” he moaned, his voice on edge.

Dom sat up a little, reached to cup Billy’s chin, to make him look up. “I have condoms in my bag.”

Bill gave a curt shake of his head, panting, hips moving. “I can’t wait that long,” he whispered, words strangled, his eyes glazed and wild.

Dom lunged to grip Billy under the arm and pull him up, over his own body on his hands and knees. Billy growled in frustration at the loss of friction, and his right hand went right back when he’d braced himself, left hand squeezing Dom’s bicep with the same pressure as his right maintained on his cock, eyes closing, mouth open. Dom reached up to hold Billy’s head between his hands, to get his attention.

“Billy. Eyes. Fucking look at me.”

Billy’s eyes popped open.

“Finish it.”

“Fuck Dom, ah!” Billy’s come splattered hot and thick over Dom’s chest and stomach before he finished with a shudder and fell against him, pushing his face into Dom’s neck.

Dom’s breath slowed with Billy’s, marveling at the weight of another on him, against him, the quiet of the night so strangely foreign. His fingers absently petted along the back of Billy’s arm, those oddly large biceps that he’d pondered over earlier, skin tinged with the pink of sun, the hair at the back of Billy’s skull, nestled in the crook of his other arm, dark auburn with clean sweat. The rise and fall of Billy’s ribs felt comforting, in counter time with his own slow, exhausted breaths. Dom could feel the weight of the whole day on his eyelids, in his muscles, willing his mind to remain like this, blissfully blank and free of the earlier run around. If only it could stay that way...

When Billy moved Dom wanted to protest, stopping the noise on an exhale while Bill raised himself only enough to reach the night stand and the box of tissues. Dom looked over the feather dip of Billy’s eyelashes, the flush still stained high on his cheeks while he cleaned the mess between their bellies. Tossing the tissue into the waste bin, he took a big breath, the air cooling the sweat on Dom’s chest and making him shiver a little. Billy kissed the middle of Dom’s chest very tenderly above where his fingers petted the small bit of hair there. Then he looked up, his eyes nervous and questioning, his words just breath.

“Can I stay?”

In answer, Dom reached awkwardly for the control panel by the phone, fumbling the lights first too bright by accident, then off to the darkness of moonlight and pulled Billy’s warmth back against his own skin.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dom thinks and rethinks and over thinks, while Billy asks questions.

_February 26th, Sunday  
Picton, New Zealand  
9:17 am_

  
Billy had an overbite.

Dom had always found overbites a strange thing, partly because they weren’t an especially prevalent trait in his own family. As a child he’d tried to see in the mirror what he’d look like if he had an overbite and quickly found that he couldn’t even come close to approximating one. He wondered if it was possibly a common thing amongst the vocally inclined, finding he could rattle off a fair few talented and overbitten singers.

Mostly he was trying to justify lying in bed, having spent the last twenty minutes watching Billy in a waking dream state, having also cataloged how the knobby set of his chin made him look a bit older than he was, that his hair was thinning just slightly at his temples, and he appeared to press his tongue against his front teeth in sleep and breath around it, producing a tiny whistling noise. Noting these things because it kept his mind off knowing that eventually (soon, probably, judging by the way Billy shifted every few minutes with soft noises of fighting consciousness) Billy would wake, and the morning after would officially start.

Dom wasn’t sure what he wanted to happen now. This was getting into treacherous waters, having spent days already with this man, getting to know him and like him, despite how bloody annoying he was. Knowing that by inviting Billy to stay the night in his bed, he had obligated himself to deal with the morning after.

A loud part of his mind insisted that there was nothing at all wrong with a friendly vacation fuck, and that of course sleeping together afterwards didn’t mean it was the start of anything. The quieter part stubbornly pointed out that if he was going to continue along that line, he really ought to stop looking Billy’s sleeping form over and finding that all of his imperfections were becoming oddly endearing, and to quit liking the way Billy made him feel with his looks and words and touches. It didn’t have to mean a thing if he didn’t make it mean something.

He closed his eyes and breathed slowly. No one for so, so long had touched him that way. He had forgotten what it felt like to be wanted like that.

When Billy stirred again beside him with more movement than usual, he opened his eyes to meet sleepy green. That overbitten mouth curled happily as the Scot stretched his arms above his head and left them there, whispering words so much more simple than Dom had expected to begin this, “Hello, you.”

Dom found he had no more response prepared than to blink slow acknowledgement and watch Billy roll to face him, covering Dom’s hand with his own on the pillows, lacing their fingers.

Dom closed his eyes again, abruptly aware he was trembling, unsure and afraid of which direction to go. Billy would know he was not merely just waking up. Why was this so hard?

Billy moved closer, murmuring, “...S’okay, s’alright Dommeh, whatever you want...” Why was it so easy to burrow against Billy’s warmth and heartbeat until the vertigo gradually subsided?

When the taste of skin beneath his lips turned words of comfort into encouragement, made the strong embrace become pliancy and willing surrender, Dom wished he wasn’t such an enormous hypocrite.

  
 _12:06 pm_

  
“Tell me about your mate, Sean.”

Dom paused with carrot stick in his hand, eying Billy over the restaurant table with suspicion.

Billy shrugged noncommittally, waving his fork, “It’s not a heavy question, Dominic, if you don’t want it to be.”

“Thought I did tell you the other day,” Dom said, and continuing eating. “Not much to him.”

“Then tell me something the two of you have between you. Doesn’t have to be work,” Billy clarified, “A man doesn’t become your best mate at the office.”

Dom pushed his dressing around the plate, thinking, then lighting on a point that grated at him. "This for that, then. If I tell you something, I want to know about your friendly bar man, Bean.”

“Fair enough,” Billy put down his fork and tented his fingers over his plate. “You first.”

Dom glared mockingly, using the time to search his memory for something safe about Sean that wouldn't approach their job. Grinning, he spoke, “I’m his surrogate husband.”

Billy’s eyebrows rounded with a laugh, “That one you’ve definitely got to explain. In detail.”

Dom scratched his chin, looking off into the distance at the particular memory, one that actually meant quite a bit to him, really. “When his wife went into labour with Lizzie, Sean was actually stuck in traffic in the Queens tunnel with Allie, their first girl. He’d gone to pick her up from her riding camp because they knew it was close, there’d been a few false alarms, you know? And they wanted to be all together when the baby was born.

“Anyway, Sean was stuck, and probably working himself into an absolute _state_ , knowing him, the claustrophobic nit,” Dom chuckled over the thought, “And Christine had apparently been waiting at home for quite a few hours before she called me up.”

Dom glanced back at Billy, finding him smiling. “So I... I ended up running my arse off to Sean’s to collect her, which is a feat since they live a good few miles out of my neighborhood and I don’t have a car. And then I had to get all their... you know, their baby-having things and usher her onto the fucking subway to get to the hospital... I don’t know why I didn’t think to call a cab.

“So, I was... I was there when Lizzie was born.” Dom finished lamely. It suddenly seemed like rather a personal thing to share.

Billy was still shaking his head in fascination.”That’s great, Dom. That’s like... like you’re family, you know?”

Dom dropped his eyes to his salad and muttered, “Yeah.” That was exactly what it was like, and Sean knew that too. Which stood to reason why Dom looked to Sean to help him make the right decisions so often. Sean was, to a degree, a replacement older brother. Matt had always been self-serving and a bit of a screw up, and Dom still resented how his parents compared them to each other, making it Dom’s responsibility to set an example and live up to their expectations. Sean always, _always_ wanted to help, and Dom didn’t like having to ask. He knew his best friend would feel the need to make Dom better when he got home, and that Sean would know that the trip hadn’t helped at all.

He shook his head of the sudden introspection and stabbed a bit of lettuce with his fork, “Your turn. Tell me about Bean, then. His actual name, for starters.”

Billy pushed his own plate away and sat back, “ _My_ mate, Sean. Always called him Bean though. Put them together and they look like they ought to rhyme. All right, let's see. You’ll want a happy memory of him too, I guess?”

Dom nodded.

Billy crossed his arms in thought, glancing at Dom often. “He was married too, when I met him. We worked together, construction.”

Dom nodded again, showing that he’d been told as much.

“I didn’t really have a flat, or anything, at the time.” Billy’s eyes darted back to Dom’s as if checking his reaction and then shrugging, “I’d just come to London, and you know the expense there. He asked one night where I was staying and I was... well, I was drunk enough to tell him I lived in the Underground. So of course the bastard tells me I can stay with him and his wife, and Sean’s not the sort of guy who takes no for an answer.

“That was how we got to be mates, working by day and drinking by night, and me trying not to be in the way between him and Abby at home.”

Billy paused to look at him with a grin, “Not like that though. Bean doesn’t even lean in a curious direction, I’m afraid.

“Anyway they’d... they’d been fighting when I got there and kept at each other’s throats for a good two months after as well. So when she moved out, I took that as my cue, you know? Felt like such a third wheel, and I was sure me kipping on their sofa when they had to go in another room to argue didn’t help matters along in either direction, so I left when she did. I wrote Sean a note saying I’d see him at work.”

Billy started picking at a callous on his finger, fidgeting in a way that didn’t seem quite like him. “Thing was, the bastard knew where to find me. Came down in the tube in the middle of the night and gave me such a talking-to I think the other bums moved off some. Told me he wasn’t going to let both of the people that were worth a shite to him walk off in the same night and then he dragged me back, and told me not to fucking leave and then he slammed his own bedroom door and passed out.”

Dom closed his mouth in his own stunned disbelief, wondering if his own Sean would do the same for him.

“He was so drunk at the time, he probably said a bit more than he ever would have sober, but I...” Billy flushed, “... you know me, I couldn’t leave him that way. And so I stayed. And we’d watch the telly and eat take-away and go to work and come home. Later on he got into bartending, several pubs before he came to one place... this jazz place called the Wenlock Arms.”

Dom felt his smile expand almost against his will know what was coming now in the story and Bill grinned back and nodded. “Aye, that was where I got started as a singer. Just a little place, but it was a start.”

Billy settled him arms on the table, studying Dom intently. “It was so... different, at least it was to me since I was on my own before it, but it’s great to have a mate like that, Dom. He’s like that... like family, like your Sean is to you.”

Dom had flattened out the remains of his salad while listening to Billy finish. “Do you ever wonder though, where you’d be now if that hadn’t happened? If you hadn’t met him?”

Billy’s eyes sparkled over the table. ”Do you?”

“Of course,” Dom answered promptly. It was a non-issue. He did wonder, often, what he’d have done had he not come to New York at all, if he’d stayed in the UK and become a social worker there where the systems were different. He wondered even if he wouldn’t have gone into this occupation at all, instead of becoming a counselor or even a teacher, like his father. He had always wondered these things.

Billy nodded, “I suppose it’s natural to do it. But wondering doesn’t make anything happen, Dom, I’ve learnt that more than once. Someone might say that if you’re left wondering, then are you really happy with where you are?”

Dammit. Why was Billy always right? Dom glared back at him, just shaking his head at a loss for what to say. There were questions unsaid between them again, question he had half a mind to answer in the face of a good debate. Was he happy where he was in his life now? Dom wanted to answered defiantly. Yes, he was. His career was what he wanted to do with his life, even if there had been plenty of other options.

But it would be a lie. He loved his job. He did. He loved working with the kids, helping them. He loved working with Sean. He loved Sean’s family. He loved feeling like he was part of that family. But he loved Shiloh too, and knowing he’d failed her time and time again served to prove that he probably didn’t belong there amongst all the things he’d come to rely on in his life.

Billy had nodded as though he knew and wondered too. Wondered where he would have been had he and Bean not stayed mates and continued to work closely. But Billy had a great thing here, didn’t he? A great job, and many friends past Bean. And Billy wasn’t plagued with wondering What If and If Only.

  
 _5:32 pm_

  
It was funny how easy it was to fall into the routine of wandering the town with Billy, who knew the interesting parts of it to go. Most of which were shopping districts with music stores. Dom had even come to enjoy Billy’s little search and listening to him play a note or two on guitars that weren’t the one he was looking for out of kindness to the clerks, feigning interest in the product he didn’t intend to buy. Today he played a wide range of riffs from a few songs Dom didn’t know, and others he did. Once, Billy had winked, saying, _Have a listen to this one, Dom,_ and fell into a version of Elton’s _Your Song_ , leaving Dom and the few lucky patrons breathless and clapping.

Now Billy led him out of town, to the rocky hills by the water, high enough to see their yacht gleaming bright in the water of the harbour from a distance, but descending down a narrow path to a secluded, pebbly beach.

Their conversation at lunch continued to spin in his head. Dom couldn’t help but wonder so many things. What would Sean say, since he’d been such a part of the conversation, when Dom told him about his vacation? Would Dom tell him about Billy? Was it something Dom would be able to keep from his friend?

Probably not. Dom didn’t tell Sean about every time he got himself bedded, of course, but generally Sean had a way of finding out about the few short relationships he had over the course of their friendship. Fuck buddies was a little better term, which was why Sean tended to find out. Sean disapproved of that sort of lifestyle, telling Dom he rather see him settle down with someone and how it was safer that way.

Billy wasn’t falling into either category. Couldn’t be the latter.

He hung back a little at the top of the beach, watching Billy padding barefoot towards the surf with his shoes in his hands, leaving him to follow.

Dom hadn’t meant to have sex with Billy again this morning. Fantastic as it was, he knew he shouldn’t have, and he shouldn’t really have spent yet another day with Billy for the same reason. This wasn’t like the buddy fucks Dom had had in the previous years. There was a definite difference between getting release with a bloke you met at a bar a few times a week and this... the way Billy slowed it down and peppered it with affection and then asked what he wanted to do that day afterward.

“Coming, Dom?” Billy called back, smiling and squinting against the sun in his eyes. Dom nodded, pulling off his own shoes and socks and sighing to himself at his own actions. It was as though he couldn’t refuse him anything, this man that had somehow wormed into his life so fast.

Billy waited for him to catch up and squeezed his hand. “Won’t stay long. The ship’s docked until about ten, I think, but I’ve got to be at the lounge before eight.”

Dom nodded, allowing the hand-holding for a few minutes before pulling his own hand back and pocketing it. He knew how Billy felt and he knew what a dangerous direction it was continuing this. Jon had been like Billy too, always in the moment and never looking beyond it. It had been the very reason that relationship had ended, or at least the biggest one. Dom had still had a year to go at the university when Jon had graduated. Where Dom had always talked about the future, about life after school, Jon had listened, but never really planned with him. Dom had even talked about this trip and the two of them going on it together.

That was so many years ago, but it still stung a little, however amicable the break-up had been. Back then Dom had actually thought Jon would be with him here, be the one strolling the beach with him, eating, shopping, seeing this country Dom had dreamt so much about. When Jon left for London, Dom’s whole plan for the future had been disrupted and it had taken a long time to alter those plans and become comfortable with the new ones. This was like the past repeating itself, but backwards. He and Billy didn’t have any future, and yet Billy was filling in the space Dom had resigned long ago to be vacant.

The sound of a jet broke the calm quiet between them. It was still low enough for the sound of its engines to carry above the squawk of gulls and the slap of the ocean. Climbing, heading west over Cook Strait between the two islands. That meant it would have taken off from Wellington International, maybe heading to Sydney. Dom slowed, watching it fly towards the setting sun. His own returning flight was odd, he’d always thought, the way the most common route back to the states was through Seoul, Korea, and then east.

Billy had continued twenty feet ahead of him, calf deep in the surf. The rolled up legs of his khakis were slopped with water, and the nape of his neck getting pinker under the sun. The singer stopped and turned again, then walked back towards him.

“S’pose we ought to start back,” he said, shifting his shoes to his other hand and brushing Dom’s windblown hair from his eyes. “I’ll sing for you tonight, if you come.”

Dom found himself once again fighting to keep his hands to himself, leaning into Billy’s warm fingers. “You already gave a performance in that guitar place today.”

Billy grinned, “Aye. I’ll sing another song for you then. A whole bunch. Four hours worth.”

“Whatever’s on the playlist, eh?” Dom said, knowing it wasn’t exactly the nicest thing to say.

Billy wasn’t even perturbed. “One I mostly came up with anyway. Plus, you can grill Bean for more stories about me. Come on.”

  
 _8:56 pm_

  
Dom folded three pairs of trousers and lay them in the suitcase before sitting back on the bed once again.

Sean would be disappointed. He’d come over to water Dom’s plants and find him there in his apartment. Then he’d ask questions. There were always questions with Sean. _Tell me why. M’not leaving till you do,_ he’d say, the stubborn fucker.

Dom splashed his face in the bathroom, staring at himself into the mirror. It would only be seven more days. And he liked Billy’s company. And his warmth and skin and smell. And his words, scary as they were.

 _It’s not the same thing_ , he insisted stubbornly, _liking a bloke and falling for him. It’s not._

Dom wasn’t falling for Billy. That took time, much more time than wanting to care for the well-being of a little girl. He had more control than that, especially knowing that he could not under any circumstances get emotionally involved with someone here. His life at home was shattered enough. He had to think about how to go about cleaning that up.

But what was seven more days? A week? Sean had told him he needed a vacation, time away. Cate had approved it, which meant she probably agreed.

Back at the suitcase, he unfolded one pair of slacks and pulled them on. Then a white shirt, not particularly caring that now he’d folded it, it was probably wrinkled. The paper package of the gifts he’d bought for Sean’s family was tucked in an upper pocket of the case.

He sat on the bed again, pulling out the first pendant that his fingers came to in the bag, unwrapping it from the tissue paper.

 _Manaia_ , he remembered the woman telling him. It was a strange design, and larger than the others. He wasn’t really sure why he’d bought it now. But he wrapped it back up and put it back, figuring it could serve as one of those impromptu gifts, if he ever needed one.

He picked up a tie, and then dropped it back in the case. There was still time. _The ship is docked until about ten,_ Billy had said.

 _I’ll sing for you tonight, if you come,_ Billy had said.

  
 _11:15 pm_

  
Dom stood at his suite’s picture window with his hands in his pockets, watching as the reflections of harbour lights began to slip away. It seemed like there was an inevitability even to this, that he couldn’t make up his own mind and ultimately time made decisions for him. He wondered if it had always been this way, if he’d really spent his whole life waiting for things to happen.

Arms surrounded his waist from behind, a warmth that was comforting and familiar. Dom settled his own hands over Billy’s and leaned back against his chest ever so slightly. It was welcomed with a puff of breath and closed, but smiling lips against his nape.

“I thought about leaving today,” Dom spoke this truth like he would in a confessional, murmuring as he had the few times as a boy he’d been made to voice secrets in the dark to a man he always felt had no right to know them. Billy didn’t respond, except to breathe warm damp against his skin and then turn to rest his cheek on the heated place.

Dom fixed his eyes on the brightness of the crescent moon nearing the horizon. It was a sort of comfort that Billy demanded no explanation and made no move to recoil. It felt as though he was welcome to say it, though surely Billy ought to be hurt. He felt safe to continue, elaborate on the whole plan. “I thought I’d take a ferry back to Wellington from here. Get my return tickets bumped and go home early. I thought about...” Dom paused and licked his lips, knowing his next selfish words would probably sting the most, “I thought about doing it when you went to the lounge, so I wouldn’t have to...” _Face you. Say goodbye. Feel more guilt than I already do._ It was probably enough without saying the rest.

Billy simply rubbed the point of his dry nose right at the hairline behind Dom’s ear, dropping a barely-there kiss. Gestures of only comfort and acceptance even in light of Dom’s cowardice.

“But, you didn’t.”

Dom slowly exhaled under the weight of the arms against his chest, “No.”

“Why?”

Dom rubbed a thumb over Billy’s where the skin was thickened from strumming guitar strings. “Ran out of time.” _Also because I’m gutless. I’m afraid of going back as much as I’m afraid to be here. Afraid to tell you anything._

“Some annoying bloke keep you busy?”

Dom’s lips curled up, “Something like that.”

Billy’s arms shifted a little, “You could have told him to piss off. Any time. You could, still.”

He could. There had been times when he thought he’d tried, but somehow they never articulated themselves into words. Dom’s eyes went unfocused with fatigue and thought. Now, instead of the inky black waves outside of the window, he could see the reflection of himself and of Billy snug behind him.

Something about this conversation had taken it past sex and amusing company. Both of which we’re either better than average or it had just been a hundred years since he’d had much. And both were becoming accustomed and rather desperately needed. It was scary that Billy had this effect on him, and that even now, he was offering Dom the choice to tell him to leave off, let him go and be alone for the remainder of the trip, since he was now resigned to finish it.

It was terrifying to realize how appealing the the alternate option was becoming.

“You’d just have Elijah check up on me,” he finally said, twisting a silver cufflink in its cuff on Billy’s sleeve.

“Aye,” Billy’s smiling eyes met Dom’s in the window from over his shoulder, “He’d tell me what you’re wearing, what you order from room service, if you start taking sugar in your coffee.”

Dom chuckled, “I could have the Captain put a restraining order on you. Confine you to quarters.”

“I’d break out,” Billy answered defiantly, “I’ve more people that have my back on this ship than Bernard does.”

“That’s treason, Bill.”

“Nah,” Billy waggled his eyebrows in the reflection, “At sea, it’s mutiny.”

Dom snickered again and turned in Bill’s arms. Billy grinned widely and lifted a hand to brush his fingers over Dom’s cheek, the delicate skin by his eye, and then dropped it, biting his lip.

“So, Dom. Are we... are we starting this,” he asked, abruptly serious, “...or ending it?”

Dom studied Billy’s face, the question being asked with every part. It was familiar now, from the freckles to the smile lines, soft eyes and sweet mouth, wedged in his mind alongside the smell of almond shampoo and whiskey and skin. He wondered if it was something he’d always remember from this trip, or if in time, he’ d forget the fine details. “It’s going to end anyway, Bill. Seven minutes from now or seven days... it doesn’t matter.”

 _But it does..._ he thought to himself, but didn’t say. _What if it's already too late?_

“This won't last. Just... Just tell me you know that.”

Dom didn't know how Bill could somehow smile and still look deadly serious, and make heavy words seem to float on air. “Everything ends, Dom. You never really know when. But it’s your choice to take a chance on having something before it’s gone.”

His choice to be alone and hurt, or to have something, someone if only for a little while. There was such fear in knowing that this had somehow got this far, so fast. That he was feeling this... _necessity_ for Billy, and that he wanted to feel anything at all for another person. Knowing full well where it had led him in the past, and would lead not long from now. But fuck, he _wanted_ , just for a short fucking while, not to be afraid of what comes later.

Denial had ceased to be an option when he wasn’t looking. He wanted Billy, the annoyingly determined, excruciatingly likable little bastard. At least wanted to spend this time with him, not alone with his own piteous thoughts and grief. Wanted him in his bed and touching him, making him feel like he might still be worth something. But beyond that was dangerous territory. Billy must realize this, for all his amorous behavior. There could be no ‘beyond’ a week from now.

He took a deep breath and tipped the corners of his mouth up in acqueiscence, tracing his fingers along the sides of Billy’s own eyes, unsure of why the gesture seemed like something meaningful between them. “You are the most insatiable hopeless romantic, Boyd.”

“Hopeful,” Billy corrected, leaning close to speak against Dom’s lips. “Insatiable yes, but very, _very_ hopeful.”

Dom let himself be kissed, felt the delicious pull of suction and then careful teeth on his bottom lip, liking the way his own tongue easily found the little bud in the middle of Billy’s top one. “You have an overbite.”

Billy’s hands slid tantalizingly down his sides and then up, under the tails of his shirt to find warm skin, nuzzling his happy mouth against Dom’s when he answered, “Your jaw is crooked.”

“We’re flawed Bill.”

“I like you anyway.”

Dom considered telling Billy that he wouldn’t like him much if he really knew him, but Billy’s too small hands had traveled two different directions while his incorrect bite started doing perfect things to the stretch of his neck, and he forgot for the time being that he must be careful about liking Billy back.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dom stops thinking and experiences many strange unexpected things.

_February 27th, Monday  
At Sea, en route to Bay of Islands, New Zealand  
9:16 am_

  
Billy was cute in the morning. Yeah, the word had come to Dom’s head so unprompted that he laughed quietly at it. Cute. Fucking stupid word. But like yesterday, Dom woke and found Billy still asleep in his bed, mouth slightly open and his overbitten upper lip pouting forward. Very lightly, he stroked a finger over that space, the divot between his nose and lip. Billy squirmed, squeezing his eyes tighter shut and tried to bat the feeling away. Dom giggled silently and did it again.

“You laughing at me?” Billy muttered when he woke, stretching and squinching and relaxing.

“Yes,” Dom admitted, and pressed his finger to the place again, just because he could. If he had left yesterday, he’d likely still be in the air now, crunched into a plane with a hundred other people. Or maybe not even that far, stuck in an airport subsisting on coffee and overpriced muffins while he waited for a standby flight. Instead he’d slept well, a thick, dreamless sleep, waking to feel sunlight and the warmth of another body in his arms. Billy had understood that this was temporary last night, and still he didn’t leave Dom alone. Billy said it was a chance at having something, even for a little while. Today, he decided, he wouldn’t fucking think. Just give this whole in-the-moment business a try.

He shifted over and kissed those smiling lips. They were there and he wanted to. He also he wanted to trail downward, over a stubbled chin and a neck that stretched to accommodate him, sliding his fingers down to find one nipple while his mouth attended the other.

Billy gasped happily and arched, voice halfway between sleep and pleased amusement, “You’re very proactive this morning.”

Dom grinned against peaking flesh, and looked up from under his brows, “When you want something done...”

Billy tensed up right on cue before Dom applied his teeth to the nub. “ _Jesus_ Dom, you mouthy bastard. Wha… _nnngh_... what did you want... done?”

Dom was off the bed and then back in a minute, dropping lube and a condom packet on Billy’s chest, with all the cheek he could muster.

“Me. Or you. I’m not picky.”

Billy grinned fiendishly, picking up the foil packet, “We could flip for it. Squiggly logo side, or ‘Non spermicidally lubricated’ side.”

“Mmm. Don’t care. But I like to bottom.”

“I like to bottom too.”

Dom switched to the other nipple with his mouth, and slid his hands down beneath the sheets to palm as much arse as he could. “I like your bottom.”

Very suddenly he was on his back with a whoosh of air from his lungs. Billy straddled his thighs, placing the foil very decisively on the fuzzy trail below Dom’s belly button, and took up the lube… “I like to bottom on top.”

Dom’s hands fell to Billy’s thighs, finding himself still out of breath. “Fuck, _yeah_.”

  
 _11:38 am_

  
“So, what’s on the agenda today, Dominic? Last time we had a day of sea, I believe I led you on a game of hide and seek.”

Dom snorted, mopping up the last of his syrup with a biscuit. “Right. Did I ever tell you I hate games?”

“You did well enough, though, eh? You found me.”

“Yes, and look what that’s got me into,” Dom said, throwing the singer a look of mock contempt.

Billy beamed and finished his tea, looking around at other passengers eating brunch and walking along the sunlit deck.

“Want to meet Viggo?”

Dom searched his memory for the name. “Viggo. Mad chef. Tomatoes.”

“The very same.”

Dom hesitated. “Is he dangerous?”

“Absolutely. He wields cleavers and rutabaga and has eyes like James Dean. Only different. Viggoish.”

Dom set his coffee mug down with a thunk, “I’m intrigued. Let’s go.”

Dom got up and made for the exit, but Billy tugged at his shirt for just a moment, strolling nonchalantly between tables toward the Cafe’s toilets. He checked back with a boyish angel face to see if Dom was following.

Just by the men’s door, Billy pushed through a side door clearly marked _Crew Only_ , yanking Dom through by an arm.

“Bill...” Dom hissed, but Billy just moved along the back room of the small Cafe kitchen, tossing the two cooks a look of absolute devilry and waggling his eyebrows before pulling Dom into what appeared to be a very small elevator or a very large dumbwaiter. Pounding the down button and withdrawing his hand before the gate slid closed, he waved at the cooks with a huge grin.

Cramped in with knees bent and bumping, Dom grabbed onto Bill at the movement. The dumbwaiter juddered and even creaked a little as it sank, pitching them into darkness. The fucking thing probably wasn’t exactly built to handle the weight of two grown men, even small ones. “Billy, you’re fucking insane, you know that?” Dom was surprised at just how scared and exhilarated he sounded.

“I always wanted to do this,” Billy giggled maniacally, and kissed Dom in the pitch black, catching him completely off guard. When the dark began to fade and then brighten, the gate slid back open and Dom nearly fell from the lift, quite thoroughly flushed.

“What are you doing?” An unfamiliar man questioned him, sounding far more perplexed than angry, but Dom froze up like a deer in headlights anyway.

“We got lost,” Billy said from behind him, looking slightly disheveled himself, but the mask of innocence was right back in place.

“You’re such a fucking fruitcake, Bill,” the sous-chef quipped.

“Viggo here?”

The man jerked a thumb to the kitchen behind him and walked off, shaking his head.

Billy guided Dom around shelving and steel worktops to find a man with dark, somewhat greying hair pulled back with a tie. His back was to them, stirring a mixture simmering on the flames.

Billy smiled sidelong at Dom and addressed the Chef’s back. “If I say to you I’m a traveler from the North seeking that which is lost...”

The man answered without turning, his voice low and gruff, “I would say I am a traveler from the West, and it is I whom you seek.”

The man turned, cupping his hand below the lip of a spoon heaped with a dark, chunky sauce, sharp grey eyes lighting immediately on Dominic. “Taste.”

Dom lacked the mental capacity to even ask what it was he was tasting, and simply opened his mouth to accept the spoonful.

“Do not swallow,” the mad chef told him, his fingers still cupping Dom’s chin. “Examine it.”

The mixture was at once sweet and robust, a little spicy, fruity, but with a bite to it. It was utterly delicious.

“Now,” Viggo asked him, removing his hand and allowing Dom to swallow, but still holding him in his gaze, “tell me what you taste.”

Dom, thought for few moments before he answered, “Chutney of some kind. Soft fruit like a peach or a pear... and tart berry... currant?” He licked his lips, “Ginger. And vinegar. Sugar and cinnamon.” Dom threw a glance at Billy, who was predictably making a face. “Something citrus like lime. And cilantro.”

Indicating his recitation finished, Dom met the chef’s eyes again, hoping he’d passed the test.

Viggo looked at him over a good deal longer, and then abruptly his whole face changed shape as he cracked a smile. He nodded to Billy, and licked an errant drop of sauce off his thumb. “Keep him. He only missed one.”

Dom looked indignant. “What’d I miss?”

“Mustard seed.”

Dom stepped past Billy to look at the chutney as it simmered. “I’d add chili pepper.”

Viggo arched an eyebrow at him, as if he’d deigned to alter a time-honoured family recipe. Dom rounded his eyebrows, trying for that innocent look Billy was so good at. “Just a pinch of crushed chili, you know, to kick off the cilantro, and offset the ginger. Make people wonder just exactly what that bite is coming from. The mustard seed obviously isn’t quite enough.”

“Where’d you find this guy?” Viggo asked Billy, but actually moved to a spice rack and shook just a pinch of dried chili flakes into his palm, depositing it in the pot.

“Moping,” Billy answered, “I had to put a stop to it before Bernard saw. Though it took long enough.”

Viggo stirred the pot and offered a half-grin to the both of them, “I know.”

There was a commotion further up in the galley and Viggo let out an intolerant sigh. Putting a lid on the pot and lowering the heat, he nodded a farewell and went to inspect the damage to his kitchen.

“How would he know?” Dom asked Billy. He liked the madman immediately, understanding exactly why Billy did too.

“Eyes in the dark, Dom.” Billy grinned, leading Dom out of the kitchens in the more conventional fashion, “Just because you don’t see him, doesn’t mean he doesn’t see you.”

“Tell him I want that chutney recipe then, when I don’t see him next.”

Billy looked him over again. “You never told me you cook.”

“Yeah. I used to more but...” Dom shrugged, and then looked haughty, “It’s hard being a man of fine taste if you don’t learn the craft.”

“Fine taste!” Billy giggled, “You just challenged the matador and got away without being roasted. I’m suitably impressed. I’ve never seen that done to Viggo.”

Dom grinned at him. “He put in the chili, did you see?”

“I did. Pity about the cinnamon though.”

  
 _11:40 pm_

  
Dom smiled, pushing the keycard into the door and then pocketing it, Billy behind him. Matter of fact, he’d been smiling so much today, his cheeks ached from it.

Armed with Billy’s arsenal of crew keycards, they had roamed nearly the whole ship. They discovered that one theoretically could slide down the bulk laundry shoot if one so desires to be that much of a child, but the maids will tell you exactly what they think about that in languages ranging from Portuguese to Polynesian. Not long after this, they avoided David, the fellow with the tomato tub again by ducking into a crew lift with a very confused steward Billy acknowledged as Brett. Billy took him down to the engine room, filled with computers and equipment the likes of which Dom had only seen in nautical movies. There they played a few hands of Texas Hold’em with Bean, Lawrence, and another sailor by the name of Sala who patted Dom on the back and claimed he was working. Hard. Billy collected seventy-five New Zealand dollars from Bean and Lawrence. Dom lost twenty to him as well. Lawrence called shenanigans and examined Billy’s shirtsleeves, but they were empty.

Dom had spent the evening with a pint of Guinness always available from Bean, and watching Billy work his magic from the bandstand. Billy’s voice seeped into and through Dom like water into the earth, and his eyes warmed it to a simmer. Billy _was_ singing to him, the irrepressibly romantic git.

In the room, Dom peeled off his jacket, and tugged at his tie, smiling again because he’d put one on tonight at Billy’s request.

“We could go to the Midnight still,” Billy mentioned, as though it was early yet, because it was. “Dance. Watch Elijah make a great fool of himself trying to get Orlando’s attention.”

Dom hadn’t seen or thought of Elijah recently, not having ordered anything or needed anything Billy did not already provide or that he couldn’t get himself. He realized he’d even left his watch on the bedside table instead of putting it on today. This was so easy, not thinking about every action’s consequences before he did it.

“Mmm. Lots of people, though.” Dom turned, giving Billy what he used to know was a bedroom gaze, “There are so many people here vying for your attention, Bill.”

Billy shifted from foot to foot, mouth curling up.

Dom felt triumphant at this reaction. “The gold-digger in the red dress was particularly taken with someone other than her husband this evening.”

“I noticed,” Billy blushed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “She’d be disappointed with my lack of fortune. And interest. Besides, there was a fetching lad at the bar I was playing Eyes with that was far prettier.”

It was Dom’s turn to redden and look at his shoes. The words Billy thought of to describe him were so unexpected. Many of them had been in his own bag of tricks on the pull, but never before had they been aimed in his direction. He couldn’t really use them to describe Billy, although in that tuxedo, crooning _The Look of Love_ while leaning casually against a grand piano, his hair and the ruddy wood of the bass the only shock of color amidst black and white, Dom might have thought for a second that Billy looked very… sexy.

Looking back up, Dom found Billy’s bowtie hanging loose around his neck and his cuffs undone, and might have had the same thought cross his mind once again.

“No dancing then,” Billy amended with a grin.

Dom advanced on him in a slow, unassuming sort of way. Billy pretended not to notice, reaching up to scrub at the back of his neck, mussing his hair and making it stick out. “Ah… I was thinking maybe I ought to go get some clothes and bring them up. I get funny looks wearing wrinkled bits and pieces of my tux down in the mornings.”

A wry grin spread on Dom’s face as he reached Bill. “I don’t even recall ever inviting you in here, Boyd, and now you’re taking it upon your bold self to move right in with me?”

“Well,” Billy grinned mischievously back, letting his hands settle on Dom’s waist, “Now you’ve stopped complaining what an incorrigible bastard I am, I thought I was in like Flynn.”

Dom kissed him, since he was too close and warm and nice-smelling not to. “You are terribly incorrigible. And annoying. I can’t stand you, Bill.” And just to illustrate how much, Dom palmed his arse and pulled him closer.

Kissing Billy was like falling down stairs, leaving him dizzy and breathless and unable to maintain whatever string of thought he may have had before. When Billy broke it and began to back away, Dom followed with a growl.

“So, you’ll let me back in, then?” Billy asked when he’d let Dom push him against the door. Dom looked extra petulant, but produced his keycard from his pocket and pushed it deeply into Billy’s with a smug grin at what else he found down there.

“Won’t be long,” Billy murmured with a hand on the doorknob, his eyes simultaneously sharp and liquid, “Make that noise again.”

Dom growled, making sure it sounded extra needy.

“ _Jesus_ ,” Billy shivered and yanked open the door, off like a shot down the hall.

The door closed, and Dom’s smile remained in place as he turned back into his room. _Our room_ , some stupid little voice squeaked in his mind and his stomach fluttered accordingly. Dom laughed at himself, wondering if Billy’s storybook romanticism was somehow a relentless contagion and he was now terminally infected.

Mostly he just felt happier than he had since he got here, and than he had in a very long time. Was it because of Billy, or just because he’d finally let this be a vacation and let someone else take the reins from him? Was it something he could maintain, and remember without regrets when he went home? The feeling ebbed at the thought, from giddiness to that painful squeeze in his chest. He already regretted that he’d wasted so much time feeling lousy in the first place. He was in New Zealand for fucks sake. Finally here, and he was spending it with someone who didn’t judge, who tolerated his silence, even liked him back. Someone who…

There was an orange light blinking on the phone console. He blinked out of his thoughts and went to investigate.

“Good evening, Mr. Monaghan, this is Jennifer, how may I help you?”

“Hi. Ah... My phone was blinking at me.”

“Yes, sir. You've had a call from a Mr. Astin, about forty minutes ago. Shall I connect you?”

Dom agreed quickly, sitting down on the bed, a lead-heavy drop of fear falling in his gut as he listened to the phone ring.

Allie and Lizzie’s faces flashed in his mind, snapping him out of the fantasy world he was floating in. If something had happened, if he’d spent a whole day schmoozing and laughing while they were in trouble… His heart squeezed, knowing he simply couldn’t take any more tragedies. Not now. _Pick up, Sean. Pick up. Pick up_.

“Sean Astin speaking.”

“Sean? Are the girls okay? What’s wrong? I’ll get there if I need to...”

“Jesus, Dominic, slow down,” Sean’s tinny voice stopped him. “Take a breath, nothing’s wrong. Something’s right.”

Dom tried to breathe slowly, but still felt deprived of air, “Tell me what.”

“We’ve got him.”

Dom’s breathing promptly went out of control again. “Walter? Where? How? Can they... can we... Sean, fucking keep him there, whatever you have to do, and I’ll be there as soon as...”

Sean’s smile came through his voice, “I don’t have to do anything to keep him. The fucker did it himself.”

“What? How?”

“Busted,” Sean sounded incredibly pleased with himself. “Thirty-six pounds of crack, a bunch of marijuana, a meth lab, the works. He was holed up with a couple of other known dealers somewhere in Jersey when the Feds raided the place. They’re transferring him back here tomorrow.”

Dom blinked at the floor. It was a pretty big bust, but they’d had the son of a bitch on drug possession before. “But, last time... Sean, last time he walked... the fucking warrant. If they take issue with the wording again…”

“Not this time, Dommie. I swear to you.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m positive. I had it checked and so did you. Fuck, _you_ checked it a dozen times over, drove the district attorney crazy. He’s not walking. Not on my fucking watch.”

There was a bubble of relief forming in Dom’s throat. _Relief_. “Christ Sean. This... Christ.” He felt awed laughter fall from his mouth, his body going numb. “God, let this work, Sean. Tell me it’ll work this time.”

There was a quiet click and scrape from the door and Billy appeared from the short hall, looking momentarily surprised to find Dom on the phone. He recovered quickly and busied himself putting his several changes of day clothes and three tuxes in the closet with Dom’s shirts.

Through the line, Sean’s voice held still more confidence and a chuckle, “Don’t collapse on me now, Dommie. I’m not done yet.”

Dom finally latched onto it. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? What now?”

“Alright, alright,” Sean laughed again, and then his tone changed to something more serious. “I talked to that Conners guy at the 112th this morning. They’re upgrading the charges.”

Dom licked his lips and took a breath, trying to think clearly. The warrant had originally been issued on a felony child abuse charge, but he knew at trial, manslaughter was more likely now that the autopsy report was through. It was the last thing he’d made sure of before he’d left. “Yeah, okay. That’s... that’s standard, but it’s...”

“Jesus Dom, I hoped this cruise would at least slow your brain to a goddamned crawl. Will you just _listen_ to me for a half a second? They’re upping the charges. Significantly.”

Dom could hear the tone of excitement in Sean’s voice, and the bottom dropped out of his stomach. The mattress shifted with movement behind him, and Dom closed his eyes briefly, remembering that Billy was here, and Billy was listening to his end of this, even if he was trying not to. Dom spoke hesitantly, disbelievingly, “Sean?”

“ _Murder One_. Resulting from long-term physical abuse that you proved. That on top of drug possession to like the umpteenth degree, with intent to sell. And all his priors, which automatically add time to whatever sentence he gets for being an unreformed asshole. He’s never going to leave a six by nine cell unless it’s in a bag, Dominic.”

Dom’s knees began to jiggle, even as his mind raced. “Okay... I... Okay. But... what if...”

Sean laughed. “Shut up, you idiot. There isn’t a chance, not a chance in hell that he’ll get off this time. I swear to you. You did this, you know. Your reports, and your damned obsessive filing, all those late nights. It’s all you, man. Now you listen to me and listen good. You’re ordered by me and Cate and Chris and the kids to enjoy the rest of your vacation, on pain of death.”

Dom paused to try and think, and breathe, and get his head all the way around this. He should go home. “I should come home.”

“Shush. _On pain of death_ , Dominic. You have no excuse to worry. Well, maybe a little, since the both of us will probably have to testify, but... I’ll hold the place down till you get back. Now, you’re to stay there and get a tan and have fun and cut yourself a break. We’re having the motherfucker of all parties when you get back too, so you’d better be rested up.”

Dom laughed. And it felt good, even though it felt like crying.

“I just... I couldn’t wait for you to get back, not for this. You did it Dommie,” Sean told him commendably, “I love you. Be safe. And don’t call me back either.”

The line clicked off. It took Dom a few seconds to peel the handset from his ear and place it back on the console.

He stared at the bathroom door before him. It was over. Off the record, it was done, and if what Sean firmly believed was true, the trial would be open and shut. Shiloh would at the very least be avenged. Dom’s entire life for the past two years would be justified.

Dom felt his nose start to run and sniffed, breathing deeply again, in and out. Sean had told him to enjoy the rest of this, and it was all good, fucking wonderful, and – a warm hand touched his shoulder – and Billy was still here.

“Something happened at home?” Billy asked tentatively, the heat of his body pressing to Dom’s back and hands kneading the tension from Dom’s shoulders. Dom nodded minutely, still staring blankly ahead.

Billy’s fingers worked into the knots in his back and neck, heating and relaxing, and chanced another question. “Something good?”

Dom’s mind was effectively shattered. Everything he become so used to, everything he had to reflect and define his existence by was gone. The future was very suddenly a clean slate, and at this moment, only one thing remained that felt safe.

He turned to face Billy, this crazy man who didn’t judge, tolerated his silence, who liked him back. “Something very good.”

Billy brushed his hair back and trailed a finger to the corner of one of Dom’s eyes, which were threatening to overflow. “Happy tears,” Billy whispered.

Dom broke, and clung to Billy more fiercely than anything he could remember. Billy returned it with as much strength. He had, after all, offered his shoulder so many days ago.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A silly argument leads Dom to start thinking in a different way.

_February 28th, Tuesday  
At Sea, en route to Bay of Islands, New Zealand  
9:51 am_

Dom lay awake, fingers laced behind his head and staring up at the warm glow of morning filling the room. The crown of his head ached, but just a little, nothing he couldn’t simply tolerate. Billy inhaled long and deeply at his side, still asleep.

Last night when he’d finished his cry, Billy had helped him shed his clothes and get in bed, wiped his face with a cool washcloth and then climbed in after him, lying close until he fell asleep. No talking, no questions. It had been a jarring end to an otherwise carefree day. This morning, though he longed for the simplicity yesterday had offered, it was impossible to just forget. He should be happy, but instead woke with the strangest sense of melancholy.

With rather disturbing clarity, Dom could suddenly see the level of obsession he’d reached with this case. Wasn’t it amusing how nearly everyone with a passing interest in psychology was in some way mentally unstable? He could look back at himself as if from outside a museum display labeled _Workaholic_. He’d pushed away all of his friends except for those few who were directly involved. He’d not painted, read a novel, or gone to a movie or a concert for ages. He’d very nearly cancelled the trip he’d dreamed of for years. His plants spent a lot of time dry and droopy; he’d be rather surprised if his Nepthytis survived Sean’s drowning variety of care. He spent more waking hours in the office than anywhere else, and was on a first name basis with the janitorial staff.

But the single brightest, day-glow sign of his instability was the worst. Now that it was over and was no longer his responsibility, now that he was theoretically free to move on with his life, he was afraid to do so.

Logically it was simple. He’d go home, get a few new cases and throw himself into them accordingly. The same people who looked at him a month ago with something like pity in their eyes would pat him on the back, drink to his infallible work ethic, call him a success. Maybe some prick high up would give him an award of merit for his valiant service to the children of Queens.

Dom sighed. What a fucked up world this was.

Billy’s hand came to rest on Dom’s chest, a warm press to let him know he was awake.

“Morning,” Dom murmured, still watching the water’s reflection dance over the ceiling tiles.

“Hey,” Billy propped himself on an elbow, “You all right?”

Dom nodded.

Billy’s fingers brushed his hair from his eyes and traced around his jaw, over his nose, sliding back and forth on his mouth. Dom closed his eyes at the feeling.

In a moment Billy settled close against him, whispering into the skin of his collarbone, “So gorgeous, Dominic.”

Dom gave a puff of disbelieving laughter. “You’re weird, Bill.”

“Why weird?” Billy smiled and kissed the skin closest to his lips and climbed over his bedmate.

“Just…” Dom grasped for the words, ”…the things you say sometimes. S’weird.”

“That I said you’re gorgeous?”

“Yeah.” Dom hardly believed that one, even on a good morning. Sure, there were occasions when he thought was looking good, attractive in his own strange sort of way. But this morning, groggy and headachy and thinking too much, eyes red and raw… Yeah. No.

“Someone ought to say it, if no one ever has,” Billy contended, looking as if that settled the matter.

Dom reddened, “I’ve just woke up from… from sobbing all over you like a big girl, and you say ‘gorgeous’. I’ve seen myself in action, Bill. There is no sexy crying here.”

Billy lifted his head with a sly grin, “You know, you’re right about that.” Dom smacked him on the shoulder, and Billy grabbed his hand to stop the assault and kissed his knuckles. “It’s only the rest of the time you’re so lovely.”

“Gorgeous. Lovely. Pretty, even,“ Dom mocked the words back at the older man, “You’re cracked, Bill. Spend too much time with the beautiful people here.”

“Like who?”

“Like… everyone. Elijah, Bean, Liv, Viggo, Orlando. They’re all beautiful. I’m all puffy and jumbled and crooked.”

Billy giggled, ”To be perfectly honest Dom, I wouldn’t like you half so much if you were straight.”

“Not what I meant,” Dom snorted.

Billy took Dom’s face in his hands and kissed him fleetingly. “I’ll put it this way then. You’re as fierce and stubborn as Bean, as lovely as Liv, as intense and mysterious as Viggo. And your eyes, Dommeh…” Billy paused and stroked his fingers over the skin beside them, “…you’ve even got Elijah beat there. As for Orlando, he’s got as much likeable personality as a toothpick, as far as I can glean from him. You’ve got all that and more I don’t even know about.”

Dom tensed to argue at the last part, but Billy leaned down to kiss him firmly, seeking to taste and distract. Again when they parted, he murmured, “Gorgeous. You can’t even see it.”

“What can’t I see?” Dom asked, perplexed.

Billy slid off and propped himself up again. “Look at this boat, everyone here you’ve met. Do you think any of us went to school on Career Day and said ‘I want to work on a cruise ship when I grow up’? With the possible exception of Bernard, of course. Do you know what Kismet means?”

Dom rolled to his side to face him. “Fate, I thought.”

“Exactly. There’s even a game called Kismet. A cup of dice, like Yahtzee only more complicated. That’s this ship. Some bugger left a cup of dice floating around in the ocean, and somehow we’re supposed to add up. Only none of us do because we’re all missing things that get us points along the way. We’re all of us here because we didn’t fit in with that world out there. But it doesn’t even matter whether you believe in destiny or spontaneous occurrence, Dominic, because in the end we’re all just in the here and now, trying to add up our points.”

Dom studied him for several moments before asking, “So why do you think I’m any different from them? And you?”

Billy looked back resolutely, lifting a hand to Dom’s face once again. “Your eyes, Dom.” His fingers traced the familiar path from Dom’s brow to his cheek, “You’ve got smile lines all around them. You have the look of someone who’s had a happy, whole life behind you, things you’ve fought for and won. That’s why you’re beautiful to me, no matter what makes you doubt it.”

Dom sighed, folding his arms up between them and pressing his forehead to Billy’s chest. “I should explain some things, Bill.”

Billy’s fingers threaded through Dom’s hair, soothingly, “You don’t have to. M’not going to make you talk anymore.”

“No, I really should,” Dom retorted and pulled back. “You’re not even seeing things clearly. You’ve got this beautiful idea of me in your head that you’ve made up, when you should know I’m not any of those things. I still failed… I still lost…” Dom could feel himself getting worked up again and pushed himself up and away from Billy, clenching his teeth as he got out of the bed.

Billy’s hand on his wrist stopped him. “I think you’ve let one mistake color over your whole life, when it’s just a ripple in a pond, Dominic. Everybody makes mistakes. I’d tell you all of mine, but we’d run out of time.”

“Yeah, well I’m a social worker, Bill,” Dom brushed Billy’s hand off and stalked to the bathroom, “I’m supposed to look out for the kids who don’t have anyone else to keep them safe. Think about what that one little mistake meant to that kid.”

Dom closed the bathroom door behind him and leaned against it for support. The words had slipped out so easily in anger. He hadn’t meant them to, and nervously wondered just how much more Billy would want to know afterwards. Dom didn’t want to see pity in Billy’s eyes. Or disgust. He sure as shit didn’t want Billy apologizing for Dom’s hardships. Nothing pissed him off more than people attempting to sympathize with something they knew nothing of.

Jerking the shower on, he let the water sting hot against his face. Part of him knew he was clinging to this case that he’d wrapped his life around. It was the same part of him that knew that Walter was sitting in a lock-up right this minute, contemplating just exactly what his future would be. All because he thought of a little girl as nothing but an object, had actually gone through the bother of adopting her in order to prove to himself and the world that she was owned, because of course, a man could do with his possessions whatever he liked. Including beating them, and maybe other things that could be bought and sold for profit later on. The very thought made Dom want to beat something (preferably Walter) into a unrecognizable bloody pulp with his bare hands, inflict every bit of pain she’d suffered back on him, even though he took pride in the fact that his ability not to made him the better man. He should be happy like he was last night, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel that way now, after realizing that no matter what revenge he’d wrought, however sweet it would be to see the bastard shackled and in a cage for the rest of his life, nothing would bring her back.

He forced back the threatening emotions and took a lungful of humid air. No more fucking crying. He wanted it back, that feeling of ease. He wanted it to be the way it had been yesterday with Billy. He wanted to live like that. He wished Billy would tell him how to do it without reverting back overnight, show him how to let those mistakes stop rippling and just go with the flow. He wondered if big computer driven ships like this one still used the ancient maritime shipping lanes, following the currents of the ocean and using the earth instead of fighting her.

Dom used the towel to wipe the mirror before wrapping it around his hips and scratching his scruffy face. With his red eyes and blotchy nose and three days’ stubble, he looked like a five-year-old hooligan. _Absolutely fucking beautiful, Bill_ , he thought and shook his head as he lathered up his jaw.

But Billy didn’t know what that ripple was. He couldn’t know, Dom hadn’t told him. And of course he had meant well in his words. He always did. This whole shift of mood was Dom’s fault, where Billy was outside that door wondering what he’d done wrong this time, and what pretty words to fix it at least enough that Dom wouldn’t throw him out. Dom wouldn’t do that though, not now. Billy was the closest thing to comfort Dom had here, he didn’t want to drive him away. But he’d left Bill with a scathing reversal of words and a lot to think about with no more explanation, incapable of just accepting that all Billy wanted was to help. It wasn’t fair, and it was selfish, and Dom knew it.

Even as Dom was finishing up his sideburns and thinking he ought to come out and apologize, there was a knock. “Can I come in, Dom?”

“Yeah.”

Dom looked up in the mirror as the door opened and put the razor down, turning to put a finger over Billy’s lips. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Billy was still warm from the bed, and his eyes told Dom he’d been thinking very carefully about what he wanted to say.

“Don’t say you’re sorry before I do.”

Billy’s eyes flitted back and forth between his. “I don’t deserve it. I say I won’t push you and then I do it anyway, and I know…”

Dom replaced his finger, cutting him off. “Maybe I need you to, Bill.”

It was easy to lean his forehead to Bill’s, but it took a big heavy breath to get more out. “You do all the things you’ve done for me, like yesterday, and before, and I’ve been such a shit. I don’t know why you’re still here. I just… my whole world is upside down and backwards and I’m just… fucking terrified of what’s next, is all. I’m scared and I’m not making any sense, but I’m sorry Billy. I am.”

“It’s all right, Dom, you daftie,” Billy chuckled, letting his arms come up to offer support. “If I thought you such a bother would I still be here?”

It gave Dom pause to see how truly ridiculous he sounded. Of course Billy, of all people, wouldn’t storm out over such a stupid little spat. Pulling back, Dom smiled tentatively at the most amusing thing about this argument. “You’re naked.”

“You too,” Billy whipped off the towel and kissed him with a grin. “And you have shaving cream on your ear.”

Dom giggled as Billy wiped it off. ”This is the weirdest fight I’ve ever had. I don’t even remember how it started.”

“I think,” Billy mumbled against his smooth cheek, “I might have said you were gorgeous – which you are, by the way, have a look…” Billy spun him round to face the bathroom mirror, his skin pink from the heat of the shower, a naked Bill hiding behind him, “– and you disagreed. So, I think we should agree to disagree and be done with that bit, hmm?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“And I ordered breakfast in, so I think you should go put clothes on and receive it while I shower. And Dom?”

“Yeah?”

Billy cupped his chin and kissed him in such a way as to be chaste and still send a shiver down Dom’s spine. “You make sense,” he whispered. Dom felt his fingertips acutely against the soft space just above his Adam’s apple.

Billy closed the bathroom door before Dom could come up with a better response than the goofy smile he was wearing. The expected knock at the door signaling the arrival of breakfast sent him scrambling to find something else to wear. Upon yanking on a pair of jeans and answering it, however, he found he’d also forgotten who exactly was responsible for bringing him… well, anything, really.

“Morning, Sir.”

Dom flushed as he held the door wider for Elijah to bring in his breakfast cart, and quickly snatched a shirt from the closet. To his credit, Elijah didn’t seem at all fazed at Dom’s state of undress, although his voice had a decidedly amused tone to it. “Coffee black, tea with milk and two orders of our chef’s specialty: omelette degli spinaci, del prosciutto e del feta. Wild red and white raspberries with crème fraiche and hazelnut liqueur to finish. You must be... hungry, Sir.”

“Elijah, I think you can drop the servant act now, yeah?” Dom muttered, buttoning the shirt hastily. The Italian was an amusing, if unnecessary bit of butchery coming from the rounded vowels of an American.

“I’m only doing my duty, Sir,” Elijah smiled primly down at the napkin he was setting with silver in the sitting area by the window, where the coffee table had ingeniously converted to a full dining table between the two armchairs and the window seat. “Does it displease you?”

Dom snorted. The little fuck got off on this. “No, it’s just a little strange considering where you were rubbing your arse the other night at the club.” Elijah’s arse, Dom remembered, had been rather familiar with Billy’s front, and vice versa not three nights ago. And no, that was _not_ a twinge of possessiveness Dom felt just under his ribcage.

Elijah’s smile and the arch of his brow said everything when he looked back up. “Your buttons are crooked, Sir.”

Dom looked down and discovered not only were the buttons done up wrong, but this wasn’t one of his own shirts at all. And there was more than enough evidence scattered about the room to support that he was no longer the lone occupant of this suite. Not least the sound of the shower running, remnants of Billy’s tuxedo or the two breakfasts Elijah had laid out with pristine care in the sitting area.

“Ah. Elijah,” he began lamely, “Is this… are you… okay, I mean… with….”

The boy chortled, unable to contain himself or keep up the act any longer. “Are you asking for my permission?”

Dom’s ears were now surely on fire, and he dropped his eyes to his bare toes.

“Hey,” Elijah eventually said, his giggles subsiding. “Relax, okay? It’s fine. It’s fantastic, actually. Besides, Billy wasn’t ever mine to give up. And he’s a great guy, Dom. Really. He’ll take care of you.”

“Okay,” Dom murmured, suddenly shy. Although it wasn’t as though this would be so long term as all that.

“Hey, Elijah,” he called, before the still tittering youth left, “This photographer bloke you like, is he good to you?”

“Yeah,” Elijah’s brows knitted as if he found the question absurd, but the bright eyes dropped, just for a moment. “He’s great.” Then the boy flashed another loaded grin and arched a brow as he took hold of the breakfast cart and opened the door. “See you. Maybe.”

Dom remembered what Bill had told him of Orlando and the boy’s seemingly desperate attachment to him. Of all the people Billy had introduced him to, the photographer was not one of them, other than being pointed out in the club that night. He had to wonder if Billy had no desire at all for formal introduction to happen, or if it was because the opportunity had simply not presented itself. It just didn’t add up in his head, and Elijah wasn’t a very good liar.

The smell of fresh coffee and the sound of the shower shutting off brought him back. _You’re on vacation._ he reminded himself. Elijah’s relationship issues weren’t his business, and the kid was old enough to take care of himself. _And you’ve got to stop fixating, for fuck’s sake._

The shirt he’d put on (having now buttoned it properly) was a dark blue with very thin silver pinstripes, and made of a very fine, light linen. Smiling, he went back to the closet and pulled out a shirt of his own for Billy to wear, the deep chocolate-colored one Billy had said he liked. He laid it out with a pair of Billy’s well-worn jeans just as the bathroom door opened.

Billy’s damp hair stuck up, drops still dripping to his shoulders, looking clean and pink and happy. He noticed immediately the shirt Dom wore, beaming and tugging on the collar. “Looks better on you. Pretty thing.”

Dom felt his cheeks heat once again, but held his tongue. He flicked his eyes to Billy’s clothes and wandered over to the table while Billy dressed, lifting a silver plate cover, replacing it quickly after a burst of flavourful steam and snatching a raspberry. “Elijah’s brought us an over-indulgent breakfast.”

Billy’s arms wrapped around him from behind, “What a good lad. We should keep him.”

“Keep dreaming, Boyd.”

“What? He’ll have his own crate and toys to keep him occupied.”

“The landlady doesn’t allow pets. And besides, he’ll need walking and training and day care, and I just don’t think I’m ready for the commitment, Bill.”

Billy cackled and they tucked in.

  
 _12:53 pm_

  
Dom lay back against Billy’s chest in the window seat, balancing the tray of berries, crème fraiche and liqueur in his lap. He was quite full and feeling wonderfully lazy, but the berries were too good to stop. The sea outside sparkled in the midday sun, and not long ago a group of porpoises had come within fifty yards, leaping alongside the ship. Dom remembered a nature documentary long ago that had said many marine animals used ocean currents in their migrations and smiled to himself, feeling the unease he’d woke to was slipping away.

“After tomorrow, there’s another two days of this. Just sea,” he remarked, raising a cream dipped berry over his shoulder to Billy’s mouth.

“Aye. Whatever shall we do?”

Dom shrugged, “I just wondered. It seems like a long time, but it isn’t, really.”

Billy took a liqueur-dipped white berry and brought it to Dom’s lips. “I’m not opposed to staying in. Although, work makes that a bit problematic.”

Dom noted the tone in Billy’s answer, the same dull reluctance most people had when they had to work and didn’t want to. The sweet-tart flavour of the fruit and hazelnut slurred his words when he spoke, “Do you like your work, Bill? Singing for people every night?”

The point of Billy’s nose rubbed the back of Dom’s ear, and his voice was a smile, ”Yes. I don’t know that it’s what I’m meant for, but… yes. I like it.”

Dom ate another berry, trying to imagine Billy doing anything else. He’d been at home doing Pete’s yard work, and he seemed just as at ease in a music store, thumbing through songbooks, automatically alphabetizing the ones he found out of order and tuning guitars by ear. Dom was beginning to think Billy was perhaps one of those lucky people who were good at everything they tried.

The singer’s voice came now as a cautious whisper, “Do you like your work, Dominic?”

Dom tensed automatically at the question, but felt Billy’s arms tighten immediately around him. He swallowed nervously, eyes fixed on the sea. “I… I did. I do, but… I don’t know if I’m meant for it either, anymore.”

He waited for more questions, but they never came. It would certainly be easier that way, he found himself thinking. Billy deserved to know what had made Dom such a pill. It was different with Billy though. The county-commissioned grief counselor he’d had to see only needed to read a file to be brought up to speed.

In the end he just sighed, resigned. This conversation was going to happen one way or another. “What do you want to know, Bill?”

Billy’s hands took the tray from Dom’s lap and set it out of the way so he could hold him more closely. “Doesn’t matter. Right now, I know what you do back there in New York. And you’ve told me in so many words that you’ve lost something dear to you. Don’t, Dommeh, I’m not finished.” Billy’s hand brought Dom’s face back up when it fell, and pressed his nose to Dom’s jaw. “You know as little of me, but that I’ve lost an old guitar that wasn’t mine in the first place, and I’ve lost other things besides. We both have our demons. Both probably spend forever willing them to go away. You can tell me whatever you want, though. I’ll listen.”

For the first time, Dom found himself realizing that while Billy had told him many things, he’d said little about the harder times of his life. And Dom certainly knew that children who had lost their parents were sometimes troubled. Billy just seemed too well adjusted to have any problems, but that was just an assumption. Dom was really spectacularly unobservant sometimes.

“I lost… I lost one of my kids. One of the cases I had for a long time. We had, Sean and me together. Shiloh… she died. Almost– what day is it?”

“Twenty-eighth.”

“The twenty-eighth. It was the thirtieth. Almost a month ago. They said it was a brain hemorrhage. From abuse, by her stepfather. They said they did all the could.

“I had been there at the hospital, that last time, just six hours before it… happened.” Dom paused to take a breath, surprised that he was managing detachment so easily now. “I’m not supposed to get too close, Bill, but…”

Oh yeah, there it was. He closed his eyes tightly.

“You’re only human, Dommeh.” Billy whispered to the skin of his neck.

Dom laughed, the sort that came out at the most inappropriate times. “I’m an idiot, is what I am. I got too close, and I _can’t_ do that.

“That call, last night, was Sean telling me they caught him. Everything I’ve wanted to hear for two years, basically. That there’s virtually no way he’ll get out of it this time unless the whole god forsaken justice system just implodes in on itself.” He breathed in and out, Billy’s hands firm around him. “I half expect it to, Bill. I want to be happy about it, but I just feel like everything I’ve done has gone so wrong, there’s no way anything can go right. And I don’t know what to do, when I go home. I’m scared that this will happen over and over again and I don’t think I can deal with it.”

“I think you can,” Billy answered.

Dom turned to the side, pressing his ear against Billy’s chest to hear the lull of his heartbeat. “I don’t know.”

“I think you’ll go home and meet another kid who needs someone to watch over them. And I think you’ll do it, Dom, even if you’re scared, because you don’t know how to say no when you know someone needs you.”

Dom looked up at him doubtfully, and Billy’s fingers combed through his hair with a smile. “I don’t pity you either. I think I envy you. You’ve a bigger heart than me.”

“I don’t pick up random mopey blokes I met on a ship, though.” Dom said, poking Bill in the ribs until he squeaked.

“Nor I,” Billy chortled, squirming. “I only pick up beautiful blokes. I first saw you and I thought to myself, if I only made you smile, just once, it would be enough.”

Dom blinked sleepily back at him, resting his chin on his own wrist, “Props to you for managing that, with the whiny prat I’ve been.”

“Aye, well, I got myself in a world of trouble. Can’t get enough of you now, can I?” Billy murmured, his hands rubbing circles in Dominic’s nape. “And who invited you to come interrupt my life, anyway? I was doing just fine without chasing boys around thinking I could catch one.”

Dom wriggled around until he was stretched out on his stomach over Billy, “Your catch may have just wiped his snotty nose on your shirt.”

Billy lay a finger on the round bit of said nose. “ _Your_ shirt.”

“Fuck.”

Billy laughed, and wrestled until he’d managed to sit up and pull Dom to straddle his lap, ”C’mere so I can kiss you.”

“I think I have raspberry pips in my teeth.”

“Mmm. I think I can take care of that. Beautiful Dominic. Pips and snotty nose and all.”

Billy tasted sweet and sharp from the liqueur, the kissing unhurried and so languid Dom felt the last twinges of fear melt away, replaced with a huge relief that he didn’t have to prove himself, that Billy still didn’t judge, didn’t say he was sorry, maybe even understood.

“Bill.”

“Hmm.”

“I think you’re crazy.”

“’Kay.”

“Bill.”

“Hmm.”

“I think… I think maybe you’re not so bad looking yourself.”

Billy pulled back with a funny smile and Dom predictably felt himself go pink, wondering when he’d lost the ability to pay a man a compliment with any sort of grace. “Maybe handsome,” he amended, looking down the long line of Bill's nose and his mouth, which was just fucking delicious no matter how much he tried to deny it.

A rather pretty blush rose on Bill’s cheeks when he giggled. Dom refrained from mentioning it in that context though, it was just easier to kiss him again, over giggles, squeaking out around lips, which just set Dom giggling himself.

“Bill?”

“Mmm-hm.”

“Thanks. For being here and… everything.”

“M’not going anywhere, Dom.”

Billy’s eyes were a bright misty green in the sunlight, warm and clean smelling and Billy-like. He was so calming and enticing, so full of years and experiences and still so sweetly unfettered by fears. Billy was perpetually, contagiously certain of every moment.

Dom wrapped his arms around the singer’s neck and brought their foreheads together. “Teach me how to be like you.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dom spends his last day in New Zealand, learns a few secrets, and comes out on top of his game

_March 1st, Wednesday  
Bay of Islands, New Zealand  
5:35 pm_

  
Dom ducked quickly down, seeing a copper glint of sunlight catch Billy’s hair as he made his way around the trees. Dead leaves crunched beneath his feet and he brushed them away from the trunk of the massive Kauri tree so he could crouch in the dirt without a sound.

“Dom!” Billy’s voice called, panting a little as he trudged along over fallen branches and tripped on a hidden stone. Dom pressed himself closer to the tree, stifling a giggle.

Dom didn’t like games, per se, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t good at them, and right this minute he was quite enjoying himself. After having nuzzled Billy’s ear at the head of the trail and purred _shut your eyes and count to fifty, Boyd_ , he’d melted off into the overgrowth of the sub-tropical Puketi Forest like the quietest of solitary creatures. Back in Central Park with Allie, he only had her count to twenty-five and always managed to accidentally snap a twig or sneeze when she was near. This though, this time it was all-out Hide and Seek.

“I know you didn’t scale one of these bastard giants,” Billy was muttering to himself, not more than three or four yards from Dom’s hiding place. He was looking skyward anyway, scanning for any branches that may have been low enough to grab. A bird shrieked, taking off to his left with a frenzy of movement and he spun looking for it. Dominic froze, hoping the broad leaves of the bush between Billy and the trunk of the tree were enough to shield him.

Billy was smiling, eyes bright and searching, the sun dappling shadows all around him through the umbrella of leave high above. “Feel like I’m being watched,” he muttered, chuckling nervously. “Going to be eaten by a giant man-eating Kiwi or something. Dom! It’s been twenty minutes. I give up!”

When Billy finally turned away and picked his way around a stand of Rimu, Dom grinned to himself again, feeling decidedly less like the prey in this game.

He snuck out of his hiding place, darting from tree to tree. Billy was bent over, searching under the kawakawa brush at the base of the trees, arms sweeping branches out of the way. One knee of his khakis was dirtied from the damp earth. Dom edged just a little closer, crouching to spring, and then pounced with an ungodly yell. Billy let out a resounding squeal. The combined racket set several more birds to wing as Billy landed with an “Ooof!” under Dom, who buried his face in his neck, fairly howling with laughter.

“You scared the shit out of me, you fucker!” Billy spat, fighting half-heartedly against Dom’s weight on his back before he surrendered, slumped to the ground and gasping for air.

Dom lifted himself and nudged Billy to turn over so he could mock him properly. “Never, ever underestimate the man-eating Kiwi, Billy. Their stealth is something unequaled in the world of men.”

“No, never again,” Billy agreed, “Sneaky bastards. Christ, you about gave me a heart attack, you great oaf.”

“You can sing soprano now, though.” Dom put an elbow down on either side of Billy’s head in the leaves and let his chest come down on Billy’s, “That had to have hit a high C.”

“Did not,” Billy attempted to look affronted, but it fell short as he tried to catch his breath.

“Did too. Jesus, your heart’s going a hundred miles an hour.”

“You think? I’m not as young as I used to be, Dom.”

“Right. Thirty-seven. Positively ancient,” Dom replied.

“I’ll say,” Billy gasped. “I’ve never played a game of Hide and Seek where the seeker gets tackled to the ground. They’ve apparently updated the rule book.”

“Yep. When the seeker is too blind to see his hand in front of his face, the hider can take it upon himself to alter the rules.”

“S’that so?”

“Mmm-hm. Found you.”

“You’re squashing me too. Gerroff.”

Dom giggled and slid to one side, catching a small movement in the leaves in front of him as he did. When Billy moved to throw his hands behind his head, Dom caught the left elbow before it hit the ground.

“Look!” Dom whispered, pushing him out of the away, and getting to his knees. Billy looked. Frozen on the leaves where his elbow would have fallen was a rather large, brown insect, barely discernible from the dense mulch of leaves covering the earth.

“Is it a weta? Dom, those things can bite, don’t…”

Dom scooped it up in his palm, carefully cradling it. “It’s not a weta. It’s one of those weevils, a giraffe weevil, I think it’s called.”

Billy grinned, resting back on his elbows, “You and your bugs, Dom. Do I get another Storytime?”

Dom glanced up at him from under eyebrows. “These are endangered.”

“Oh terrific,” Billy said, “And I almost squished him.”

Dom let the bug’s stick-like legs crawl over his palm, the antennae on the long stalk of its neck bending and feeling over the ridges of his skin. “S’alright, though. He’s just minding his own business and we come crashing into his little home.”

“Your fault,” Billy reminded him. “I was being perfectly mindful of the environment until you felt it necessary to attack me.” He sat up to his knees beside Dom and peered at the insect.

“When I was little,” Dom’s voice dropped a little, almost as if he meant to speak to the bug instead of Billy, “when my parents were arguing, sometimes I’d hide out in our garden, under the bushes. Sometimes I wished I were a bug. Just a little thing that goes about his life without knowing anything but it’s own little world. This bloke doesn’t know he’s endangered, Bill. He doesn’t know that all his relatives are all in the same hundred-mile radius and nowhere else on the planet. He just… lives his life. One minute at a time.”

Dom plucked the bug gently from his palm and put it down far under the bush, where they wouldn’t tread on it.

Billy looked up at him, squinting against the dapples of sun lighting his face. “Are you happy, Dominic?”

Dom blinked at the question, loaded as it was with so many ways to answer. But Billy shook his head, as if reading Dom’s thoughts, “I don’t mean that. Not about yesterday, or tomorrow or ten minutes from now. I just mean right now, like that little creature. In New Zealand, in the woods, under these huge trees, Dom. Aren’t you happy to be in this moment?”

Studying Billy’s earnest face, Dom wished he could give Billy the answer he wanted to hear. It wasn’t that easy though. Billy had mastered exactly what he himself had spoke of, the art of forgetting the big picture. It was something that even as a child, Dom had not been able to do. “I want to be,” he answered honestly, still watching the bug, “I wished for it, when my mum and dad were arguing about my brother, and how come he wasn’t more like me. They didn’t know I wanted nothing more than to just be like him, and be happy in the moment, no matter how bad things were everywhere else. Matt’s still like that.”

The bug worked its way into the undergrowth and Billy put an arm around Dom’s shoulders as they watched it disappear beneath the leaves. Dom still wished he could live that way, one second to the next, like Billy. It did make him happy to be like this, a sort of contentment in a little bubble separate from the rest of the world, Billy’s fingers threading through his hair. He could never just forget though. He let his head drop against Billy’s neck and shoulder.

“You’re right, you know,” Billy’s voice echoed weirdly beneath Dom’s ear. “I understand, anyway, if you think I didn’t. I spent… no, I _spend_ a lot of time ignoring my problems, Dom. I’m happy to pretend they aren’t there. But they are. They still are, and they get bigger any time I think about them, so I don’t.”

Dom knitted his brows. It wasn’t healthy, what Billy was doing, but Dom himself had no place to tell him so, considering his own methods of tackling his issues, or rather drowning himself in them. What disturbed him most was that Billy had done such a good job of convincing others that his life had gone without so much as a snag. So much so, Dom suspected Billy had himself nearly persuaded as well.

“I should like to meet your brother. Sounds like he and I have some common ground,” Billy said, sounding like he was trying to lighten the mood but falling short.

Dom chuckled a little. “See if you can hold his attention long enough. I’ve not seen him in ages. He calls sometimes, though. Usually when he needs money and asking Mum didn’t work.”

He would have expected an understanding laugh at that, but it didn’t come. Billy just sighed, leaning back on his hands and looking up at the canopy for a long while before speaking. The sun had dropped behind the clouds, casting the forest into shadows. “You know how I told you about my parents? About how I blamed myself when they died?”

Dom nodded, sensing Billy needed to get something out in the open.

“I still do sometimes, Dom. And I know what you’d say. Same as what everyone says. It wasn’t my fault, it was a random accident, some say. Others say it was their time. ‘God needed them’, is what my gran said.” Billy huffed bitter laughter. “I hated her for that one. God needed them, like we didn’t?

“But I blamed myself then, and sometimes I still do. They wouldn’t have gone if it weren’t for my stupid mistakes. If I hadn’t been such a pain in the arse.”

He glanced quickly up at Dom, face darkened and ashamed, something Dom hadn’t seen on him. It made him look young and scared. His hands began methodically shredding a dried leaf to bits.

“I had a temper as a lad. I don’t know why, even now, but I’d get so angry over the smallest things. I got into fights at school. Shite, I picked them most of the time. And when my parents died, it was because of that. They were going to meet with the school officials again, the second school I’d been dismissed from. They never saw the lorry coming round the corner, that’s what the police told us.”

Billy’s hands ran out of leaf, and he chuckled down at the mess on his trousers, brushing it off. “What must you think of me?”

Dom blinked. It wasn’t so much the confession that shocked him. He’d dealt with similar stories, and he’d suspected Billy had one as well. But his heart lurched at the thought that Billy had kept it secret from him because he thought Dom would like him less because of it.

“What do you think I should think of you?”

Billy laughed, “Spoken like a true psychologist. I think I wish I hadn’t told you any of it. Easier that way.”

Dom felt a raindrop hit his arm, and brushed at the wetness absently. “So I could go on thinking you’ve had such a perfect life? You’re the one who said everybody makes mistakes, as much as we hate them. A bunch of broken miserable bastards, that’s what we are. We’re flawed, Bill.”

Dom ran a finger over Billy’s overbitten upper lip and got a smile. A relieved one, which he had to kiss, wrapping his hand around to cup Billy’s skull and draw him forward. It began to rain in earnest, and soon they were soaked to the skin.

He pulled back and laughed, elated at the feeling of it, the freshness of the rainwater against the heat of the forest and causing the warm earth to steam a little, settling a mist over everything. This was his last day in New Zealand, and it had rewarded him with such the spectacular sight of the rainforest regenerating itself before his very eyes, and with Billy in his arms.

He grinned at the singer. “I am happy, Billy. In this moment.”

“We could teach each other a thing or two, eh?” Billy admonished, pressed their foreheads together in the way that was quickly becoming a position of reassurance for both. “You’re scared of your future and I spend all my time running away from my past. Maybe we meet in the middle. It’d only be fair if time just stopped right now.”

Dom kissed him again. _Insuppressibly charming git_ , he thought. It felt, just for a moment, that maybe there was a whole universal design and he was supposed to meet his polar opposite who made him think in ways he hadn’t before, who he couldn’t understand but was drawn to anyway. Who he liked very much, even in light of his faults.

Billy’s watch beeped and he whined into Dom’s mouth, his whole face scrunched like a child who’d been woken from a good nap. Dom giggled, even though he felt much the same. Time stopped for no one.

They got up from the forest floor, brushing wet leaves and dirt from their clothes. The rain was tapering off as quickly as it had come. Dom closed his eyes and inhaled the forest smell, deep and damp and earthy, cherishing his last few minutes in New Zealand. There was still Fiji, but Fiji was not what brought him here.

 _I’ll come back_ , he thought, determinedly. _Someday, I’ll come back_.

“Saying goodbye?” Billy murmured, embracing him from behind and Dom smiled that Billy could read him so well.

“I’ll come back.”

“Aye, I bet you will.”

  
 _10:04 pm_

  
 _Sure I know you’d like to have me  
Talk about my future  
And a million words or so to fill you in about my past  
Have I sisters or a brother  
When’s my birthday, how’s my mother  
Well my dear in time I’ll answer all the things you ask_

 _But for now, let me say I love you  
Nothing more seems important somehow  
And tomorrow can wait, come whatever  
Let me love you forever  
But right now_

  
Dom ducked his head to sip his drink, knowing full well his ears were burning hot enough for Billy to see from the bandstand and it wasn’t the whiskey. Billy wasn’t even hiding the way he flicked his eyes in Dom’s direction on certain words, strolling along the edge of the bandstand with one hand casually in his pocket, the other on the mike. This was Billy’s cloak, he was now privileged to know, this perfect picture he showed the rest of the people here. Dom had feared it once, just days ago, not knowing the truth of what was underneath.

  
 _Some fine day when we go walking  
We’ll take time for idle talking  
Sharing every feeling as we watch each other smile  
I’ll hold your hand, you’ll hold my hand  
We’ll do things we had never planned  
And we’ll get to know each other in a little while_

 _But for now, I’ll just say I love you  
Later on there’ll be time for so much more  
But for now, meaning now and forever  
Let me kiss you my darling  
Then once more_

  
Stupid sappy Billy, with his tux and his glittering eyes and that secret smile. The song tapped every qualm Dom had about this... _thing_ they had, complete with heavy words and promises and forever, and then took away all the fear that should have gone with it. Hopeless romantic if ever there was one.

 _Hopeful_ , Billy’s voice reminded him in his head, and he bit his lip to keep from grinning quite so widely.

 _But for now, let me say I love you  
Later on I’ll know more  
But for now, here and now, how I love you  
As you are in my arms I love you  
I love you  
I love you_

Dom sighed and let the smile come, and then laughed at himself. He was at risk of liking this crazy man a little too much. Clearly if you get a glass of whiskey in him (Glenfiddich with only one ice cube, the way Billy liked) and then sing him a song, he turned into quite the blouse. This ought to have been embarrassing with this many people around, but right now he couldn’t be arsed to care.

“Freddy Cole was never quite as good as Nat.”

Dom turned to the unfamiliar voice that deigned to break into his happiness. Collar loose and knocking back a shot of something clear, he found the photographer had taken the barstool to his right. His elegant fingers up-ended the shot glass and set it beside another that was already empty, paying no mind to the drizzle of alcohol they left on Bean’s spotless bar top. Orlando looked up, caught Dom with his liquid brown gaze for a moment and then gave a dazzling smile. Dom did not return it. There were silent words implying that Billy wasn’t as good as either, something Dom quite disagreed with right this second.

Orlando blinked, refocusing, “Freddy Cole, you know… Nat King Cole’s brother. Natalie’s Uncle. Freddy.”

Dom nodded slowly. Yes, he did actually know of the reference.

Orlando cleared his throat, “I don’t believe I’ve offered you a photograph yet. Sir.” He spoke, hand indicating the camera hanging at his side. The _Sir_ was added in a rather contemptuous tone. “Would you like one? A memento of your holiday?”

Dom wondered how many drinks the man had had before he sat at the Lounge bar and had two more. His appearance was unkempt, eyes swimmy, simpering inappropriately. Dom responded politely. “No, thank you.”

The brilliant smile returned. Ace tapped a finger on the bar, signaling Bean for another shot, eyes still on Dom with a chuckle. “No? Well, suit yourself. There are a few of my photos of the band performing down in the souvenir shop on Deck Four, though. Should you feel like you want to take a piece of it home with you.”

Dom squeezed his fingers around his own tumbler and downed the rest of the drink in it, just to keep himself from responding with all the snark that last bit was intended to provoke. The photographer was clearly less than sober, but his implications were there in technicolor. Billy had taken few precautions with Dom around other crewmembers, and Dom had foolishly assumed it was all right. He didn’t see how this should bother the photographer given his own tastes, young stewards among them. Right now though, Dom was in a very good mood listening to Billy sing, and Ace was butting in.

He glanced at Bean, who was calmly drying glasses behind the bar. Bean gave the slightest shake of his head, and Dom agreed. It wasn’t worth it. He gave Orlando a curt nod and a tight grin of his own. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Orlando’s eyes didn’t leave his face though. “Bean, give the man another drink. And another shot for me,” he added, finding that Bean had not obliged his silent request.

Bean leaned the heels of his hands on the bar and dropped his voice low, “I think you’ve had quite enough, Mr. Bloom.” Holding the incredulous glare the photographer shot back for a moment, he took the two shot glasses and wiped the spot they made, then went to pour Dom another few fingers of whiskey.

Orlando rearranged his face back to a grin once again. “You want a photo keepsake, Bean? You know, I’ve heard Miranda may be hopping ship. The pay’s so much better in those first class Sydney hotels. Shame about losing those magic hands, though.”

Dom watched Bean clench his teeth as his hands continued to dry the used tumbler, but let his eyes flick up to the crowded lounge. Orlando either had a death wish, or he was intent on making as many enemies as possible in the shortest amount of time.

“Maybe you should say what’s really on your mind, Ace.” Dom spoke quietly, swiveling back around on his stool to watch the rest of Billy’s performance. For his part, Billy didn’t miss a beat at seeing the pair of them talking at the bar, though his eyes did a double take. All too soon, Dom smelled alcohol wafting too close to his cheek for comfort.

“It’s funny to watch you two, s’all,” Orlando slurred. “You and sweet William up there, making eyes at each other. It’s my job to watch people, you know. I can’t help but notice you two might as well have booked the honeymoon suite. Though they say he’s too good for Oceanic’s money, and does this shit for fun.”

Dom had to refrain from rolling his eyes at this, but said nothing. Whatever Orlando’s agenda was, his high-class attitude and inebriation were putting a serious damper on his attempts at charm.

Orlando continued, “I just have to wonder if you’ll have old Bill end his lucrative yacht club singing career, or if you’ll retire your fancy New York job to come join the fucking circus.”

Dom glared at the pretty face leering back at him. The twat had done his homework, found out where Dom had come from. That wasn’t especially difficult for someone who probably had a manifest of home addresses to send photos, but it grated roughly on his nerves all the same. “I can’t help but notice you seem on the way out yourself,” he rebuked, quiet threat in his voice.

“I’ll drink to that,” Orlando turned around as though he was hoping Bean had taken pity on him and given him another shot. He hadn’t. Dom eyed him carefully, and drank. Orlando beamed.

“What do you plan to do about Elijah, then?” Dom asked pointedly. Orlando wasn’t the only observant one around here.

The photographer smirked, then looked confused. “Was there something that needed to be done?”

“You could tell him you aren’t serious, for starters. And you could tell him you intend to leave. And maybe that you’re sorry.”

Bean set a glass of water in front of Orlando, who snorted and took it as though it was the shot he’d been asking for. “The kid’s young and stupid. He’ll live. Besides, he’s got no ambition and more baggage than a cargo ship. If he wants a cuddle buddy, he can buy himself a fucking teddy.”

Dom ground his molars irritably. How could Elijah play at flirting with everyone for fun, but give himself to this arsehole, too far gone to use those big pretty eyes to see right through him? “Yeah, I can see exactly why he wants to keep you around.”

“Well…” Orlando shrugged modestly, the sarcasm seemingly lost on him. Dom shook his head and sipped his whiskey. _Yes, Ace, you’re just positively enchanting. You keep telling yourself that._

Orlando apparently did just that. He looked sidelong at Dom, “So, New York City, yeah? Never been there, but I’ve thought of it. Lots of work for photographers there. Real work, with the shows... fashion, none of this shite. Lonely though, all by yourself.” That brilliant smile was back in place, “Maybe I could look you up sometime.”

And that was enough. Dom turned back to the bar and stood up, flicking his eyes briefly to Bean, who looked fairly incredulous at such a proposition himself. Dom drained the rest of his drink slowly, savouring the smoky flavour, fully aware Orlando was watching every move he made. Glancing back at those simmering dark eyes when he was finished, he slid his empty tumbler across the bar and turned on his heel, his words to the pretty photographer low and conclusive over his shoulder. “You’re not my type.”

Locating a small table close to the bandstand where he could watch Billy sing, Dom settled himself comfortably in Billy’s line of sight and didn’t look back.

A few minutes later a cocktail waitress arrived with a tall glass of Guinness. She smiled, “The bartender sends his compliments, Sir.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dom learns a little more about Billy, and makes a frightening discovery.

_March 2nd, Thursday  
At Sea, en route to Suva, Fiji  
10:51 am_

  
“Would it throw Richard or Jennifer for a loop if we called down and asked for more lube?”

Billy snickered, “They’d ask what flavour you want.”

Dom kicked the covers off of their overheated, sticky bodies as he rolled over, pulling just the sheet back up and putting a corner of it to good use.

“Elijah’d be the one to bring it up, I suppose,” he speculated, raising a brow at Billy. “I don’t know how much cheek I’d be willing to tolerate from him on the subject of lube.”

“Elijah wouldn’t say anything.”

“Elijah wouldn’t have to say anything,” Dom answered. Billy chuckled and nodded. They both knew Elijah didn’t necessarily talk with just words.

Dom reached for the empty bit of plastic. “Well to be fair, it’s a small bottle. Two and a half ounces doesn’t get you really far, and it was mostly empty when I packed it.”

Billy shrugged, “Probably right. Best not to even let the little pisser know we’ve been trying to beat his outlandish record. I bet I have more in my room. I’ll go get it.” Stretching happily, he made no such move to get up.

“Later, then?” Dom asked, rolling until he was snugged to Billy’s side.

“I don’t know about you Dominic, but I’m not quite up for anything requiring more lube right this second.”

Dom cackled and pressed closer, whispering, “Old man.”

“Ancient. At least let’s have a kip for a few minutes.”

Dom hummed in agreement, pressing his face into Billy’s warm neck, but he was too awake now. Talk of Elijah reminded him of last night’s encounter with Orlando.

Given a limited (and drunken) assessment of the beautiful photographer, Dom had to admit he was left confused and disappointed. All he could see going for the man was his looks, and his complete lack of concern for Elijah’s feelings wasn’t at all redeeming. Call him old-fashioned, but Dom wouldn’t especially want someone he was in love with making plans for a future where he wasn’t in the picture, right under his nose. The boy was being used, plain and simple. Dom had seen it too often, people who firmly believed their partner loved them for various reasons. Some of them had been beaten into submission. Some of them had never known what it was to be loved, and therefore anything that resembled love in the movies must be the same thing. Some of them were held down by addiction, like Shiloh’s mother had been.

As exasperating as he was, Dom’s impression of Elijah was one who was strong willed, bright, and reasonably likeable, whatever personality he might be projecting at any given moment. Elijah might play a submissive game as he had when Dom found Billy’s note on his nametag, but he did it because he chose to. The spark in his eyes had made that clear enough. Dom couldn’t see him caged by anyone, much less someone like Orlando, who was in Dom’s rudimentary view, the type of person who seemed to pursue things strictly for his own benefit. Elijah was an easy lay until Orlando grew bored and found himself a replacement. Apparently the photographer had set his sights on Dominic for that. Had Dom agreed he could contact him in New York, logic followed that Orlando would have a free place to crash, free food, et cetera. Dom didn’t like the idea of Orlando showing up at his door, not at all.

“Where is Elijah from?” he murmured.

Billy shifted, clearly having been on the edge of sleep. “Mmm. Somewhere in the middle. Idaho. Or Iowa. One of those ‘I’ states.”

Dom had never been to the middle of the country. He had this idea in his head that it was this massive expanse of farm country as far as the eye could see, knowing full well that was an outsider’s perception and because most of the Americans he knew were from the coastal areas who felt the same way. But it took a certain type of person to stay landlocked, amongst others who couldn’t wait to leave. Orlando had said the boy had no ambition, but Dom knew from experience it took a decent amount of that to uproot, and courage, besides.

“I wonder why he left,” he thought aloud.

Billy sighed, the bicep under Dom’s neck contracting so the free hand could brush through his hair. “He went after his brother. S’what he told me, anyway. His older brother left when Lij was quite young. I guess he got tired of hoping he’d come back for the rest of them, his sister and mother. His dad was… not the best.”

Dom didn’t need Billy to explain whatever reason Elijah and his family had for leaving, guessing for himself. He was ashamed he hadn’t seen it sooner, just how much of a mask the boy wore. “I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Billy told him, “He hides it very well.”

“He trusts you enough to talk about it though. Maybe more than anyone else.”

“I suppose.” Billy laughed, “And here I am telling you his problems. You have a way of weaseling secrets out of people, Dominic.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault if you go spilling secrets. I just asked and you answered. It’s my job,” Dom joked, then didn’t. “Well. Part of it.”

Billy rolled atop him and cupped his cheek, kissing him deeply. “You’re on vacation. No working allowed.”

“I can’t help it. My mum always said curiosity would get me in trouble.”

“Remind me to thank your mum, then.” Billy was mouthing languidly at Dom’s neck and shoulder, apparently recharging at a respectable pace.

Dom chuckled and tilted his head. That would be an awkward meeting at best, since he had never brought home a male lover. He’d only come out to his parents after he and Jon had split, long after he’d left home. They still avoided the subject at all costs.

“I’d rather you meet Sean instead. He considers himself my keeper anyhow.” Dom was beginning to realize the implications this conversation had, but let it slide. _No thinking_ , he scolded himself. _Just fucking go with it._ “Christine and Allie and Lizzie too. And if Allie doesn’t approve, you’re out, Bill. Seeing as we’re married and all.”

“ _Married_?” Billy pulled up and arched an eyebrow in amused disbelief.

“Oh yes. It was lovely. Mr. Tippin’s led the ceremony, and Winnie the Pooh and Holiday Angel Barbie were the witnesses.”

“Hmm,” Billy folding his arms over Dom’s chest and gazed at him. “What does one do to gain her approval?”

Studying the besotted look in the singer’s eyes, the niggling worry continued. “Any number of emasculating things. Playing with pretty ponies. Or watching her lessons on real ones. Carriage rides in the park.”

Billy bit his lip and knitted his brow, “I’m shite with horses. One bit me in the arse once.”

Dom burst with laughter, forgetting he was worried Bill was taking this too seriously.

“Yes, laugh, by all means. I’ll have you know those beasts have massive teeth. Left a bruise for a month.” Billy did his best to looked affronted.

Reaching down for a handful each of said arse, Dom tried to stifle the giggles that kept bubbling up. “I guess horseback riding on the beach is out of the question, then.”

“It does put a damper on the romance if I feel like I have to watch my arse from the deceptively herbivorous monster I’m supposed to have control over.”

Dom grinned lasciviously, sliding a finger along the cleft, where Billy was still a bit slippery, “I can watch your arse for you.”

“Thought it was my turn to do you,” Billy purred, dropping his forehead to Dom’s chest and arching into the touch, driving all thoughts of anything else far from Dom’s mind.

“The lube’s in your room,” Dom poked him in the ribs and spread his own legs a bit so Billy dropped between his thighs.

Billy rolled his hips back down, against Dom’s reawakening cock, pulling a groan from deep in his chest.

“There has to be clothes for that,” Billy murmured into Dom’s mouth before covering it with his own. Dom growled in frustration around Billy’s tongue, but pulling him closer and moving in counter rhythm, decided that lube and clothes were going to have to wait awhile.

  
 _2:16 pm_

  
Billy’s cabin was one deck below Dom’s suite, in the bow of the ship. It was smaller and narrower with a much smaller window, but well lit and with its own bathroom. Billy had a double bed covered with a simple Oceanic issue quilt, and a bench and table that folded out from the wall. There was even a tiny refrigerator and microwave. Shelves by the bed housed some books and few other personal effects. The thing that drew most of Dom’s attention, though, was the guitar propped in one corner.

Strolling over to it while Billy swept up laundry that had been on the floor for several days and pulled the blanket up farther on the bed, Dom picked up the instrument carefully to examine, keeping an eye on Billy.

It was a very simple acoustic Epiphone made of spruce. There were signs of wear and use, oil spots worn into the strike plate and discoloration on the frets, but it was well cared for. It looked nothing like the Spanish creation Billy’s heart was set on tracking down, but when Dom glanced back up and found Billy’s eyes, it was clear that he’d had a long partnership with this one as well.

“What’s her name?” Dom asked cheekily.

Billy’s eyes dropped with a smile. “I never named that one. It was all too abrupt.”

“Ah,” Dom nodded, “Best not to name both, then. One might get jealous.”

Billy took it from him, strumming a few chords and adjusting the tune. Dom smiled as he turned away. Billy might not say so, but he clearly loved it as much as his elusive Holly.

On the built-in table by the bed, there was a picture in a very cheap plastic frame. It was quite old, judging by the heavy fading of the color. It showed a woman kneeling on patchy lawn in front of a brick building, and before her stood two very young children, all of them wearing dated clothes. Dom caught his breath, knowing immediately that the boy was Billy. He could not have been more than six years old.

“That’s my mum,” Billy said, appearing over his shoulder. “Dad took that picture. It’s the only one I have anymore.”

“And… your sister?”

Billy dropped his eyes again. “Maggie.”

Dom glanced at him, noting again that look of darkness in Billy’s eyes. It was a risk to ask, but he took it anyway. “Where is she?”

Billy picked up the plastic frame. “I’d guess she’s still in Scotland.” He smiled, albeit sadly. “I imagine she’s married with a bunch of kids. Happy. I don’t know though. We lived with our gran after Mum and Dad died, but I left when I was sixteen, as soon as I could, really. Gran couldn’t tolerate me anymore than my own parents could.”

“You haven’t seen her since?” Dom asked, surprised.

Putting the frame back down, Billy scrubbed at the back of his neck. “Now you see why Elijah and I get on so well. Gran must have died at some point, and I never stayed in one place for too long. We just… lost touch.”

Billy sat on the bed, strumming a little on the guitar once again. Dom could see now that it was much more than just an instrument. It was probably the closest source of comfort Billy’d had for those long years. A comfort that Billy was pulling himself into now that Dom had broached a touchy subject.

Dom kneed up on the bed behind him, sensing the rare introspection Bill was projecting as his fingers played on the strings. As far as Dom knew Billy had spent several years on his own. He’d been an angry child for whatever reason, and the death of his parents had probably served as a defining point in whatever drove it. He’d even left the rest of what he had, because his family (his grandmother, at least) could not handle him.

It crossed Dom’s mind that he couldn’t handle Billy himself. This thing had shown up in a time and place where Dom was clinging to distractions instead of facing his own problems at home. Billy was powerfully distracting.

But it was Dom’s gut reaction to calm him, smooth his hands over the tension in Billy’s shoulders, and to gently question. “You don’t act so angry anymore, Bill. I have a hard time imagining you that way.”

Billy laughed a little. “I can’t make you stop working, can I?”

Dom grinned, wrapping his arms around Billy waist under the guitar. “No.”

Billy shook his head in amusement and stopped strumming. “We were poor. My parents both worked, which was unusual, but necessary for us. Gran worked as well, in the shirt factory with Mum, though she was in her seventies then. We all lived together in that tiny flat in Cranhill.” He nodded at the picture again. “You were judged in school by what housing block you lived in, and who your father was, what his rank was in the factories. Stupid things, Dom. Kids are cruel to each other.”

Dom nodded, resting his chin on Bill’s shoulder.

“It wasn’t all bad though.” Billy glanced back to tell him. “I had mates when I was young, and my mates’ fathers were factory workers like mine. If someone picked on your mate, you were there fighting for him.” Billy smiled, “My dad taught me that. Taught me how to lay another lad flat out too, when I was quite young. I think he might have regretted that later.”

Billy gave a sigh. “There’s nothing interesting to it. I was just stubborn. I wanted attention, and I didn’t want to settle for factory work like I was expected to. Good thing too, in those days it was your dad’s standing in the factory that got you in the door, and he lost his job at the Gas Works when they downsized the whole thing. So when they died, I told Maggie I was going to find my way to something else, as soon as I could. Anything else. I told her I’d get us both out of there.”

Billy went quiet and strummed a few more chords for a few minutes. “I boxed in different cities for money when I left home. The illegal kind, underground fighting, no gloves or refs or anything. Stupidest thing I ever got myself into. I did all right as long as the other bloke was big and lumbering. They can’t move as fast, you know? But I went up against this lad in Stirling, built just like a whip and just as fast. Got myself beat up so badly I think the most of the fight in me went with it, and all my money. That was where old Gavin found me, the guitar maker.”

Dom tightened his hold on Bill. “I wish you’d told me this before.”

“Why?” Billy countered, glancing over his shoulder. “I’m not proud of it, Dommeh. I was a stupid child, and I used my temper to get me into what I thought would bring in riches. Instead it got me into so much trouble that I had to rely on a perfect stranger to get me out, and my sister likely thinks me dead and gone.”

He went back to the strings, picking out a simple sweet tune with the nail of his thumb. Dom didn’t press him. It all made sense now. Billy had spent so much time relying only on himself, it was probably very difficult for him to trust people. Dom knew Bill was fiercely loyal to those he did trust. Bean had given him friendship and a roof over his head. Elijah was a youngster caught in a turmoil that Billy probably saw shades of himself in, and so he was as protective of him as the boy allowed him to be. The old guitar maker had picked him up from whatever gutter he’d fallen in, and given him what was essentially his trade as a musician and singer. However hard the old man had been on Billy, Dom guessed that there had been more of a bond there than Billy had let on. He wasn’t just searching for that old Spanish guitar for himself. He owed it to the old man’s memory. Billy was not a man who made promises lightly.

“Have you looked for her? Maggie, I mean.” Dom asked, tentatively.

Billy shook his head.

“But, it’s so easy now to find people, Bill. The internet is full of…”

Billy turned to look back at him, interrupting, “Would you take me back, after that long? After what I did?”

Dom sat back a little. “She’s your sister, Bill. You wonder and imagine about her, don’t you think she does the same? And look at you! You live on a yacht, you’ve got wonderful friends, and you’re happy despite all that, Billy. You make other people happy.” Dom paused, biting his lip and adding quietly, “You made me happy, and I was doing a damn fine job wallowing in my own misery until you showed up.”

 _There’s a smile_ , Dom thought as Billy’s lips turned up slightly, and pulled him back closer.

“Do you think she’d forgive me?” Billy asked quietly.

Dom let his forehead drop to Billy’s temple and sighed. Twenty years was a long time. “I don’t know. I...” Dom faltered. He wasn’t going to make any more promises he knew he couldn’t keep, even in the interest of hope. “I don’t know, Bill.”

Billy started over with the song. He didn’t sing, but Dom imagined the words would be soft and simple on Billy’s lips. It bothered him that Billy was deeply ashamed of his past mistakes, even as he was helping Dom get over his own. Perhaps it was better that he knew Shiloh was gone, instead of having to wonder for years and years what would have happened to her.

That was a morbid, awful thought, and he regretted it immediately. It wasn’t his place at all to reintroduce himself into any of his case’s lives, just because he cared for them at some point. Maybe Billy was a hypocrite for what he’d done, but at least his method of dealing still had a shred of hope. Dom found himself listening to Billy working the tune from his guitar, and wishing that they had more time.

“What do you want to do today?” Billy murmured softly.

“Stay in. I say we take this guitar and that lube up to my room and hide away from the whole world.”

“Hmm. I have work.”

Dom grinned against Billy’s nape. “I like watching you work.”

“I like watching you watch me work.”

“I like you watching me watch you work.”

Billy cackled and turned, propping the guitar aside and tackling Dom to the bedspread, straddling him. “I’m going to take you dancing after, show you off.”

“Kay.” Dom hooked his hands around Billy’s nape to pull him down. It was a proximity issue, and Dom couldn’t help wanting to be kissed if Billy was going to crawl on him anyway. Kissing was an excellent transition from less than comfortable conversation. And besides, Dom rather liked this new idea of being shown off.

After some minutes, Billy pulled back with a peculiar look on his face. “I don’t know how to use the internet. Elijah tried to show me once, but…” he left it there, shaking his head sheepishly.

Dom laughed gently. “Old man.”

  
 _12:38 am_

  
The Midnight Club was thrumming with energy that night. The music seemed a little louder that it should be, and there were more people than Dom remembered, more frenzy in the crowd. There was a buzz in the air like this was a nightly celebration, something that would culminate in something huge. Maybe it would. Billy had explained that there was to be a crew change after this voyage. For many, these nights were the last some would ever see each other, and Dom was beginning to understand that this boat did have a secret life beyond the perfection.

Billy made the rounds with him in tow, talking animatedly with Sala and Lawrence, setting up more games of poker. Dom saw Bean sitting with Liv and a lovely blond woman he thought might be Miranda, and went over by himself to apologize for never taking her up on the massage he’d scheduled earlier. Bean flashed him a grin, putting an arm around her and murmuring something in her ear that lit her smiling eyes back to Dom with renewed interest. He had an idea of what it was and found himself blushing a little.

Not long after, he saw Viggo lurking in shadows, his eyes wandering over the room and drinking merlot from the bottle. Dom waited until the chef felt him staring, nodding acknowledgement, and Dom made his way over.

“I wanted to ask for that chutney recipe before I left,” he said, sliding into the bench across from the chef.

Viggo looked him over again. It felt almost as though the man had a way of perceiving one’s character without a word. “I don’t think I have to give it to you,” he answered back. “You’ll remember it.”

Dom smiled, replaying all the ingredients in his mind. _Pear, currant, ginger, vinegar, sugar, cinnamon, lime, cilantro, mustard seed and…_ He drilled his eyes back at Viggo’s. “Chili pepper.”

Viggo grinned and offered the bottle to Dom. The wine was smooth and dry and excellent. He expected nothing less from the madman.

“Christ, I leave you alone for ten minutes and find you conspiring with the Devil himself.” Billy appeared, sliding in with Dom and planting a kiss on his temple.

“Not conspiring,” Dom admonished, reddening a little at Billy’s public affection. His eyes automatically scanned the room for the photographer, but he was nowhere in sight.

“No,” Viggo agreed. “Just pirating secrets and making them his own.”

“You know, he has a way of doing that?” Billy quirked. “Viggo, this is Dominic, by the way. I don’t think you two ever met properly.”

Dom shook the mad chef’s extended hand. “And what do you do, Dominic?” Viggo asked.

Dom hesitated, feeling his heart beat a little faster at the question. Billy squeezed his hand under the table. “I’m a social worker,” he answered finally, and realized he didn’t feel ashamed to say it anymore.

Viggo nodded solemnly for a moment, before fixed his intense eyes back on Dom’s face once more. “Good. I was afraid you’d say you were a chef.”

Billy cackled and wrapped a warm arm around Dom’s shoulders, falling contentedly into conversation.

Elijah was a ball of energy when he showed up, half out of his uniform and deciding Dom’s lap was as good as any. Dom drew the line at sharing his beer though, and gave it to him while Billy brought him another. Elijah wriggled and fidgeted while they all talked, glancing often at the doors.

“Christ Elijah, off. My thigh can only deal with your bony little arse for so long. If you can’t be still you can sit on the fucking floor,” Dom chided.

“Fine,” Elijah grumbled, and inserted said arse happily between Billy and Dom at the table. Billy arched a disapproving eyebrow at this arrangement.

“Come on, Lij,” Dom said, mirroring Billy’s brow. “Let’s expend some of that energy, hmm?”

Dom took Elijah to the dance floor, amused and rather pleased that Billy kept his eyes on them, on him. He bet Elijah knew better than to make a wrong move under that eye while dancing, but Dom mostly wanted to focus the American’s attention elsewhere. “Where’s your boyfriend?”

Elijah stared back at him for a minute and shrugged. “I don’t know. And he’s not my…” Elijah quieted abruptly.

“No? That’s not what it sounded like before.”

“Not yet,” Elijah returned. “I meant not yet, you didn’t let me finish.”

“Ah, right.” It wasn’t Dom’s place to tell Elijah the photographer’s motives, but his encounter last night bothered him nonetheless. “Not so great, then.”

“Maybe he’s busy,” Elijah shot back. “He’ll come if he knows I’m here.”

Dom said nothing and continued dancing, trying to keep Elijah’s gaze, watching it continue to slip to the door, or the floor, or to his hands on Dom’s body. Elijah saw many things, but he was blinded, and it would take more time than Dom had to make him see the truth behind Orlando. He sighed, pulling hands away from his back pockets, “Look Lij, just don’t get too attached, all right?”

Elijah stepped around him, pressing against his back with his lips brushing Dom’s ear, “Speak for yourself, Monaghan.”

Billy was right in his line of sight at these words, and Elijah’s finger curled to beckon him forward. Billy abandoned his beer at the table and approached, taking his place before Dom and dismissing Elijah a twitch of his chin. His hands replaced Elijah’s and Dom was immediately aware of the quiet possessiveness in his touch.

“What was that all about, then?”

“Just talking,” Dom answered. “I’m worried about him, that’s all.”

Billy smiled, falling into the music’s rhythm and wrapping his arms around Dom’s neck. “You too, eh? He has a way of crawling under your skin.”

“He does,” Dom agreed. He did. However annoying Elijah’s multiple personalities were, there was still something about him Dom wanted to protect. Maybe it was just in his nature.

“Am I not allowed to dance with anyone else?” he half-joked, trying to lighten the mood. That look Billy had given Elijah sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. He may have danced with someone else, but it was abundantly clear that he was here with Billy.

“Not for very long, especially Elijah and his wandering fingers.” Billy grinned, “People were looking, did you know that? Watching you, and then watching me.”

“Scandalous,” Dom gasped mockingly.

“You’ve no idea,” Billy breathed against his lips, begging a kiss.

Dom chuckled and obliged, eyes flicking at an abrupt motion out of sync with the beat behind Billy’s back and several feet away.

Orlando had shown up, and Elijah had been quick to notice. The meeting did not seem to be going as well as Elijah anticipated.

Billy blinked in confusion at Dom’s distraction, and Dom turned him around, continuing to dance but keeping close to Billy’s shoulders.

The argument seemed to be growing more heated. Orlando hissed a few words into Elijah’s ear and turned to walk off. Elijah grabbed for the back of his shirt to stop him, looking far too self-deprecating in Dom’s opinion. Elijah was pleading.

Orlando whirled on him, one wiry hand clenching hard around Elijah’s slim bicep and the other roughly pinching his spine at the nape, hard enough that the boy’s shoulders rose sharply in a pained flinch. The muscles in Orlando’s forearms corded as he gripped, once more biting off words in Elijah’s face.

Dom abandoned dancing and started forward automatically, but Billy was far ahead of him, pushing through the crowd, breaking Orlando’s hold and inserting himself neatly between the two.

“You want to be keeping your hands to yourself, mate,” Billy’s voice had dropped nearly an octave, accent thick, but his tone was crystal clear and even under the music.

Orlando laughed down at him, leering, “So gallant, Bill. They don’t make them like you anymore, do they? I wasn’t aware you laid full and eternal claim on anything you’d bedded round here.” His black eyes raked over Dom’s body at these words.

Dom lifted his chin in defiance. _Keep on looking, Ace. That’s as far as you’ll get._

Billy’s hard eyes and tense jaw didn’t waver, “I lay claim to keeping shite like you from treating my friends like they exist for your sublime benefit, and I’ve had quite enough of letting it go on. So I suggest you take a walk.”

“Tell him that, then,” Orlando sneered, speaking quietly. “Tell your little friend what he wants to hear, Bill, give him what he wants. You know what that is, don’t you? That’s why he came crawling to me in the first place. He wanted what you wouldn’t give him.”

“He wants something the like of which you aren’t human enough to give, you fucking piece of shite,” Billy’s voice was naked threat, stepping even further up into Orlando’s space and forcing a step back. “Walk away.”

“Gladly,” Orlando growled. “Tell your little pissant lackey that too, since he can’t seem to get the fucking message from me.”

Stepping off, Orlando flicked his gaze back to Dom deliberately. Billy’s stance tensed further, hands closing into fists at his sides. Finally Orlando turned and pushed his way through the circle of onlookers to the doors.

“Are you all right?” Dom put a hand gently on Elijah’s shoulder, which was shrugged quickly off.

“Elijah…” Billy turned back from making sure Orlando left, moving to touch him as well, but the boy just sidestepped.

“Fine, alright? I fucking get it,” Elijah backed away, a number of emotions working under a veil of anger, red with humiliation as his eyes found the door again. “I heard him the first time.”

He muttered a curse and pushed his own way through the crowd to grab another beer from a cooler, settling into a table in the corner by himself.

Dom started after him, but Billy’s hand held him back, probably more firmly than he meant to. “Let him be, Dominic. He won’t talk when he’s like this.”

Billy’s eyes were bold and fiery, still glancing back at the door after Orlando. Dom’s own heart was pounding in his ribcage, some adrenaline reaction to the exchange he’d just been part of in some strange way.

“Fucker,” Billy spat at the door. “Arsehole. Comes in here so high on himself that the fucking clouds curl his hair, not too proud to tell anyone he’s too good for this job, and the rest of us besides. Fucking wraps Elijah around his finger and roughs him up and spits him out so I have to clean up the mess. Piece of shite.”

This, Dom realized, was only a shade of the temper Billy had spoken about. Angry, vicious and near trembling with rage over the incident, for all he’d handled it like a gentleman. Dom glanced back over at Elijah, who was now shredding the damp label of his beer into very small pieces. He wanted to get him to talk, give him support, get the full story. But it required patience and time, and the latter he didn’t have enough of. He also suspected Billy’s patience had peaked several minutes ago, the way he seemed just itching to follow Orlando out the door and demonstrate what could have happened if things hadn’t gone so cordially. Other crewmembers were still glancing surreptitiously in their direction.

“Maybe we should go, Billy,” he suggested. Billy glanced distractedly at him and then back, teeth still on edge. Dom took a step in closer, cautious, “Bill, let’s go cool you off, eh? Little too much fire for everyone in here.”

When Billy lowered conceding eyes to the floor, Dom shuffled him off the dance floor toward the doors, where Bean met them, looking concerned. Wordlessly Dom had him take Billy for just a minute, distract him while he strode back to Elijah.

“What,” the boy grated, not deigning to look up from his pile of paper.

“I asked you if this was okay, Lij. Billy and me.”

“It is.”

“Is it, really?”

Elijah looked up, confusion underneath the self-pity. “Why are you asking me this?”

“I don’t want you going back to that. If that’s your alternative,” Dom said simply.

Elijah snorted, “Yeah well, that seems pretty fucking unlikely right about now, so you’ll excuse me if I suggest you fuck off and enjoy yourself. Billy’s waiting for you,” he gestured with his beer before downing the rest of it. His huge eyes scanned over the people in the club.

Dom had an inkling what he was searching for. “You don’t need a replacement, Elijah,” he sighed. “You need a good night’s sleep for a change.”

“Fuck you,” Elijah muttered and left, weaving his way back through the writhing bodies on the floor.

Dom sighed again, defeated, and went back to Billy. Bean nodded to Dom before he disappeared, and Dom felt immensely grateful that Billy’s best friend trusted him enough to handle this.

“I told you he wouldn’t talk,” Billy said, once they were out in the corridor. “He’s like that sometimes.”

“So are you,” Dom said, looking at Billy as they moved up the hall to Dom’s suite. He was still thrumming with tension, and Dom knew it was a push. He tried to soften it, “Sometimes.”

Billy nodded, teeth clenched. “He’s not jealous of you, Dom. Not about that, anyway.”

Dom pushed his keycard into the lock and pushed the door open. Billy kept on talking, his words clipped and hard and working back to agitation. “He’d only come to my room after the fucker was done with him. Fucking exhausted and quiet and lost. He just wants someone near him, Dom. Just so he can sleep, that’s all.”

Dom pressed Bill against the wall, cutting off his words with a harder kiss than he intended. “I know, Bill.” His own blood was thrumming hot beneath his skin in a surprising surge of need to slow Billy down, calm him and take his mind off the situation. Cupping both cheeks, he leaned closer and kissed more gently. “I know.”

Somehow he did know. Whatever Elijah’s past, and Billy’s for that matter, there was a mutual need for comfort between them that didn’t necessarily have to be about sex, although he was sure there’d been some. He also knew that he himself seemed to represent something else to Billy entirely. Billy’s arms came up to grasp his and he whimpered into the kiss, tension breaking. Dom pulled back a little to breathe, the darkness in Billy’s eyes so close.

“Are you always so loyal?” He chanced a smile, “Always defending your mate’s honour and all that?”

Billy huffed a laugh, his lips tight. “I’d have anyone’s back against that prick. He took a liking to you too. I saw him, in the lounge.”

A prickle skittered over Dom at this, Billy’s jealousy rolling under his skin. He considered not telling Billy what had taken place at the bar, but Billy beat him to it, somehow reading it in his eyes. Orlando had made a pass at him, right under Billy’s nose.

“Fucking bastard,” Billy growled, agitated to the point of shaking, “I could fucking shred him… Lijah, and you…”

Dom kissed him again to shut him up, a little frightened of this new fierce Billy, of the words he was saying, might say. Frightened of how he was responding to them. His hands slid up into Billy’s hair, tongue delving to taste, the hard body against him shaking and arms gripping clothes and searching for skin. He nudged Billy’s head up and attacked his throat, nipping and then soothing with tongue, tasting sweat as his hands skimmed down to tackle trouser buttons. Freeing him easily, pooling wool and silk pants at his ankles, he dropped and took Billy into his mouth, his own moan echoing Billy’s.

“Dommeh, your mouth… oh, Christ…” Billy stuttered between shattered breaths. His knees faltered a little, sliding down the wall an inch or two, and Dom grabbed his hips to steady him.

If Dom was going to be truly honest with himself, he’d been hard since the minute Billy’s voice had gone starkly cold up in Orlando’s face, giving him the sort of talking to Dom had refrained from in the lounge. Billy was quick and measured and not to be trifled with if you fucked with any of his friends, and Dom liked that. Liked that he was included, and that Billy wanted him like this was more than a vacation fling…

Dom knitted his brows and dismissed those thoughts. He pursed his lips at the base of Billy’s cock, nibbling up to the head and then over to take him deep into his mouth. He choked a little when Billy’s hips made a particularly hard dig, adjusted and moved to press the heel of his hand down on his own erection with a groan.

Billy’s hands scrambled at his ears, grasping and twisting in the hair behind them, gasping and muttering incessantly, “Ah… Dom, I want you in me... please, inside me please... _please_.”

Dom slowed and pulled his mouth away, resting his forehead against Billy’s thigh for a moment to collect himself. He had to slow down, slow Billy down before… before what? He didn’t know, but his own heart was pounding with a fear he didn’t quite understand.

Standing back up, he kissed Billy gently, pulling back when Billy sought to attack his mouth, trembling with the ferocity still burning in his eyes. Dom leaned to kiss him again, keeping his eyes open and watching Billy carefully, willing him to just give over. Billy eventually exhaled heavily, dropped back against the wall, murmuring against Dom’s mouth. “Dommeh, please.”

“S’alright,” he soothed over and over as his fingers pulled the buttons of the tuxedo shirt free, heeled off his own shoes and then tended to Billy’s. Pulling him over to the bed, he lay Billy down against the pillows and quickly shucked his own clothes to join him.

Billy’s face held that sad seriousness that seemed foreign to him, and not what Dom wanted after the hard angles he took on in anger. He leaned on one elbow to study the man in the way he’d only done before when Billy slept, smoothing a finger over the crease between tight brows, over his sharp nose and down along one of the heavy lines that bracketed his mouth. It led him straight to a scar below his lip, unnoticeable except up close like this. Dom could guess it was one of many reminders of Billy’s darker past, and when he bent to kiss it, the tiny noise Billy made caused his heart to clench.

Billy was far, far more than Dom had ever given him enough credit for. He was unlike anyone he’d ever met. He was warm and sweet, playful and clever, crazy and unrelenting. But he was also dark and wounded. He was fascinating. Another word came to mind, one that was a little bit terrifying and potentially disastrous, though Dom had used it many times with other lovers, had heard it come from this mouth, pointed in his own direction. _Beautiful_.

“Turn over,” Dom nudged, rolling the prone body beneath him. He inhaled, steadying himself, letting his hands sweep over skin and tense muscle, then again, firmer, digging his thumbs along the sides of the spine, rolling the heels of his hands over the diamond below shoulder blades.

Billy made a small noise once or twice, starting to relax. Dom bent to mouth at the nape of his neck and lower, kissing and licking over firm shoulders that tasted of clean skin and sweat. He tried the word, formed it silently against skin. _Beautiful_.

Billy made the calmed noise again, barely a hum of sound from low in his throat, and Dom sat up to look over the freckled skin, a few shades redder over the broad shoulders and the outside of his upper arms. He ran his fingers over the sunburn, remembering the strength Billy had in his arms. Billy was compact and hard muscled, a force to contend with if one dared cross him. _Beautiful, Bill._ Dom elbowed himself lower, pressing a kiss to the very small of Billy's back and watched the shoulder blades rise with a heavy breath, his own coming faster.

Billy was driving him absolutely crazy. “So beautiful, Billy.”

When he slid his tongue over Billy’s tailbone, the singer whispered “Oh my god” like a plea for mercy, and Dom knew he had Billy’s undivided attention. He hadn’t done this to anyone in years, hadn’t wanted to, but Billy was so bloody responsive, and the sounds he made were intoxicating, and he was so fucking gorgeous. Soon Dom was grinding himself into the bed as his mouth and tongue worked Billy open, wet with wanting, and Bill was keening for him.

“Dominic!”

“Fuck yeah, Bill. Now.” Dom moaned, grappling for a condom and lube, sheathing himself in both and steadying Billy’s hips in his hands. He groaned, pushing into tight heat, resting his forehead to Billy’s neck as he waited for him to say go. Billy shoved himself back, shocking a gasp from Dom’s throat.

“Jesus Bill, so hot.” Dom murmured, following suit and thrusting slowly, a long pull out and then harder in with a palm flat on Billy’s lower back.

Billy hummed, breathing through his nose with his head dropped between his elbows, tilting his hips back. “You feel so good.”

Dom shivered, lowering himself down over Billy’s back and burying his face in the older man’s neck. “Really like fucking you.” His strokes sped up. “And tasting you,” he nipped at the closest flesh, earning a moan, “God, you taste fucking incredible.”

“Jesus Dommeh, more.” Billy pleaded, and Dom wondered whether he meant more talk or more fucking, so he opted for both.

“Come up,” Dom pulled Billy upright, sitting back on his heels and clutching Billy against his chest. The change of position had Billy crying out as Dom’s cock pressed hard over his prostate with each movement, deeper and harder and fuck… Dom clung against him, hands palming Billy’s nipples, rubbing his cheek to the back of Billy’s scalp and breathing hard as his strokes quickened. “So good. You’re so fucking hot, Billy. Oh… God.”

Dom slowed, too much heat pooling low in his balls, too much, too soon, and this felt too fucking good not prolong for however long he could. He let his hips barely move, one hand drifting down to the heated crease of the inside of Billy’s thigh, the other sliding up to press Billy’s face back for a kiss.

Billy whimpered in his mouth, hands grabbing back for Dom’s waist, delving between them to feel the junction of their bodies, causing Dom to still completely or lose it right there. “ _Billy_ …” the word came out as a whine as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Please Dom, oh god, please. Don’t stop, go harder.” Billy wriggled, trying to gain more friction himself, shifting his knees wider and dropping his head forward.

Dom complied, helpless not to at the feeling of Billy sinking back further on him, a shudder wrenching through his body. Billy’s skin was hot, slick with sweat under Dom’s hands as they both came down to bracket his erection. Billy was so hard he was practically upright. Dom could see if he stretched up a little to look over his shoulder, and the movement forced another cry from Billy at the shift of pressure. Dom drew back and pulled Billy back on himself, then forward and back again, Billy’s spread thighs providing perfect leverage, and Dom found the words from his own throat tumbling completely out of control. “God Billy, you’re so fucking sexy… unh, unh, ah… want to see you come, come in you. So hard…. Fuck, yeah.”

Billy agreed, shuddering with a yell when Dom moved to cup his balls in one hand and stroke him with the other. He set his teeth into the muscle of Billy’s shoulder with a growl and Billy’s voice blanked out, coming in sluggish spurts over Dom’s fist, his body clamping down on Dom like a vice.

“Fuck… _ohmygod Billy fuck yes oh_!” Dom pounded into him, shoving in deep, deep, and coming harder and longer than he had maybe ever with Billy’s body wrenching aftershocks from him, his mind wiped clean of everything but this perfect need, the near painful throb of his orgasm inside tight hot heat.

Dom’s breath surged against Billy’s neck, unwilling to slow to a tolerable level. His muscles quaked with release but he still kept a tight hold, shakily drooping to one side to lay them both down in a tangle of legs and sweat. Dom pulled free slowly, oversensitive, and threw the condom in the general direction of the bin without letting go of too much Billy.

“You’re driving me crazy, Bill,” he whispered to Billy’s hair, scared he’d found enough breath to say it out loud and not enough brains not to.

Billy turned over, his own breathing far from steady, pressing close and hot into Dom’s embrace and shoving his face into his neck. _Hiding_ , Dom realized, and an ache pushed against his ribs from inside. He’d let this go way too far. He’d let himself get deeply involved in the affairs of people here, and he’d been seduced by the man in his bed, in his arms. Completely and utterly taken.

“This is so dangerous,” he whispered.

Billy didn’t say anything, though Dom knew he’d heard. He simply clung close, even as Dom shifted to turn out the light. Perhaps he didn’t think it was, wasn’t thinking far enough ahead to realize.

That was a lie if Dom had ever told himself one. Billy wasn’t an idiot. As he felt himself slipping inevitably towards sleep, Dom knew Billy had realized how dangerous it was to fall this far a long time ago.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dom accepts certain truths, even if some of them are hard to take.

_March 3rd, Friday  
At Sea, en route to Suva, Fiji  
9:30 am_

  
When Dom woke, Billy was not in the bed with him. He scrambled a little, disoriented at the change until his hand brushed a slip of paper on Billy’s pillow.

       
_Just out for a walk. Back soon. ~B_   


He flopped back down with a sigh, a little relieved. Perhaps they both needed a little time to themselves.

The previous day and night had been… any number of things. Revealing. Chaotic. Overwhelming. Dangerous.

There was a very real possibility that Billy might be falling for him. Or maybe Billy considered the falling bit over and done with, and he was currently sprawled on the ground and waiting for the painful part to set in. It was about to, in any case.

Dom didn’t believe in love at first sight. Or even in the first month or so for that matter. In all his experience with love, it was something to study from all angles and approach with due caution. It was just too easy to get hurt if one didn’t. That Billy could just jump after everything he’d been through was a concept Dom couldn’t understand.

No, love was something that came with time. Lots of time. Before that came examination, infatuation, lust, pursuit. Billy had skipped all that, swept in and said such words, made Dom feel like he was something special. From the beginning Dom had seen the danger of getting involved with someone here, and yet he’d let it continue, let Billy dig his way in because it distracted him from his life outside.

He thought about Shiloh, and in doing so found it still hurt knowing she was gone. He found a little redemption in knowing Walter was in custody, though there would still be the trial to face. Dom had testified at a few trials before, always intrigued that when called to the stand before a jury, his name was announced along with all of his credentials that made him sound like some sort of respectable expert in his field. In truth, he felt like he was still floundering on by like an intern most of the time. Perhaps he was, if he still made the basic mistake of emotional involvement. But the anger was beginning to dissipate, knowing that Walter was no longer on the run, that there was an end in sight now, and he could lay it to rest. Dom had dealt with death before, friends and family alike, and he knew the stages of grief. It didn’t get any easier though.

Billy understood that. Billy had far more reasons to hate his life than Dom, but he didn’t. He lived every day and he gave himself over to the people he surrounded himself with, and he loved completely…

Dom threw aside the covers and started the shower, feeling the water carve rivulets in the dirt he felt saturated in. It felt like guilt and shame. He’d said things, spoken words last night that betrayed what he had to do very soon. He had admitted things in the heat of passion that he’d denied all this time. Billy was beautiful. If he was imperfect, Dom found he no longer cared. Billy made him feel…

Billy made him _feel_.

He leaned heavily against the tile wall and breathed, letting the feeling flood him as it had last night. He was falling for Billy. He was falling already, against his own rules, and he _couldn’t_ do that.

It wasn’t that he regretted getting involved. _You make your own fate_ , Billy had said, and it was true. He chose to spend time with Billy at his side keeping him company. He chose to kiss Billy and start this thing. He chose not to leave early when he had the chance. Time had little to do with it in the grand scheme of things. Billy’s magnetism was a stronger force than time. New Zealand was somehow more amazing with Billy beside him. Billy serenading him every night made him feel bigger than his skin. The sex was incredible, and last night was mind blowing.

What he did regret was that it would all end. In a few days time, he would have to go home, back to work, back to his old life where he helped unfortunate kids, or at least tried to.

If this were a case, now would be the time where Dom would try to work out problems over the phone rather than running to the location to be a mediator. It was where a child was in the process of learning how to accept certain aspects of life and deal with bumps on their own. It was the part where Dom would be around to handhold less and less, until he had removed himself completely with as few traces as possible. Now was the time to withdraw.

Problem was, Billy wasn’t a child. But he knew this was temporary, he must know that it would end, and soon. They’d go back to their own lives and ideally things wouldn’t be disrupted at all, it would just be smooth sailing. Dom snorted bitterly. Go with the flow. Right. Now that he’d got in too deep, now that he didn’t want it to end, now that he was concerned about Billy’s past and future and those of other people here as well.

Out of the shower, he toweled his hair, shaved and dressed, and hoping that Billy would be gone a few minutes more, called for his coffee and Billy’s tea. Billy’s life wasn’t the only one Dom had barged into, and he wanted to at least try to clear things up.

Elijah greeted him with the coffee cart and practiced servile jubilation, as though last night’s events in the club had never happened. “The ship is ahead of schedule, Sir. There’s a tailwind behind us, so we may reach Suva as early as…”

“Elijah.”

The boy met his eyes innocently, “Sir?”

“I’m sorry about last night. How are you?”

Elijah didn’t answer, dropping his gaze to straighten the serving tray methodically.

Dom cleared his throat. ”I wanted to ask you…”

“Well, don’t.”

The polite act was dropped and there was threat in those blue eyes as they glared back up, and Dom considered for a moment everything they silently said. It wasn’t his business. He had no right to interfere. Elijah was not a child, and he didn’t need Dom’s help.

That one stung. “Elijah, I might be able to help you, if you just talk to me,” he spoke quietly, soothingly.

Elijah snorted in disbelief, dropping all pretenses. “Why do people like you come here to escape all your problems and then offer me advice like I need it? Like you even have a clue what you’re talking about? What the hell do you think you know about me?”

Dom was taken aback by the sudden barrage of vitriol, but tried anyway. “I don’t know much, Elijah, but if you’d tell me, maybe I could point you in the right direction.“

“Guidance,” Elijah folded his arms, nodding almost sagely. “Right. I need that. Point me then, _Sir_ , in the right direction you seem to know so well.” With that, he began wheeling the cart back to the door on his way out.

Dom took a few breaths, thinking fast of something to say. “Orlando’s using you, Lij. You must know that.”

“Yeah well, it wouldn’t be the first time,” the boy muttered. “People use what they need, don’t they?”

Dom blinked, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder to stall him. “What, do you want him to come back, do it again and again? Is that what you want?”

“He needs me,” Elijah said, defiantly jerking away. “Someday he’ll see.”

“Yeah? Tell me Lij, when he’s through, does he get up and leave you to take care of yourself? When he pushed you away in the club, was he telling you how very needed you were? That he loved you?”

Dom grasped Elijah’s left bicep and squeezed, just a little. Just enough. Elijah fought against his own reaction, only the twitch of his upper lip and an indrawn hiss betraying the bruise hidden under the sleeve of his uniform.

Dom released his hold with an apologetic rub. “S’what I thought.” He sighed, trying to arrange his next words very carefully. “There’s a difference between being loved and being used, Elijah. He’s leaving. Did you know that? Or did he even bother to tell you?”

Elijah blinked back, anger still red on his face. “You’re leaving too, Dom. Explain to me what the difference is, since you’re so fucking enlightened on the subject.”

That comment hit Dom with all the force it was meant to, and he took an involuntary step backward. The kid was right. Elijah, who was young and bold and couldn’t possibly understand his own feelings had told Dom exactly how things stood, and pointed out just exactly who was the hypocrite. “This isn’t… it’s not the same…” he stuttered.

A click and the sound of the door opening broke Dom’s gaze, swiftly meeting Billy’s eyes as he entered. Billy glanced between him and Elijah’s flushed face. The steward dropped his eyes to the floor and then back, rearranging his face to a pleasant smile. “Enjoy your coffee, Sir,” and with that he hastily pushed the cart past Billy, ignoring him completely, and was gone.

Dom swallowed and looked down himself, still a bit too stunned to look Billy in the face yet. “I ordered tea for you,” he pointed out, attempted to divert Billy’s attention from the argument he’d walked in on.

Billy’s hesitation in answering added to the tension. “I brought some breakfast. Scones and things. I, ah… I figured you might get the drinks.”

Dom looked up at the napkin-covered plate the singer held. His face was open as ever, smiling hopefully.

He smiled back, wanting to reassure, and moved to take the plate to the sitting area by the window. “Where’d you go off to?” he asked, keeping his words nonchalant, sitting down to the breakfast.

“I went looking for him, as it happens,” Billy answered, nodding after Elijah and scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck as he sat opposite. _He does it when he’s nervous or upset_ Dom thought, his chest giving a squeeze that he could so easily read Billy already.

“But he wouldn’t talk to me,” Billy continued. “Seems you had better luck. He _has_ to talk to you.”

Dom turned his attention to a blueberry scone, feeling his ears color at the thought of what Elijah had informed him. He was no better than the photographer. He was using Billy. He had no idea what Billy had thought about the end of all this because he had not even thought to ask, and frankly, now he was afraid to. “He didn’t really talk to me either. Yelled at me a bit.”

Billy shrugged. “Figures. The lad’s more stubborn than me.” He took a bite of a biscuit and a sip of tea. “I went to see Bean after.”

Dom nodded acknowledgement. He might have expected that. He’d spent the morning thinking alone, but how much easier would it have been to work though with Sean to bounce thoughts off of? “Pouring your troubles to the barman?”

Billy’s smiled meaningfully, “Aye.”

“What, um…” Dom twisted at his ear and looked out the window at the sunny open ocean, “What did he say?”

Billy held his teacup in both hands as though it was a mug and he was warming his hands with it. “You know, that’s the thing about bartenders. They listen, but they don’t always know what to tell you.”

Billy was not referring to the incident with Elijah anymore, that much was clear. Dom nodded slowly. Bean was a good mate to Billy. As solid as his own Sean, at least, and Sean was a better friend than Dom often gave him credit for.

“He thinks he might leave the line, after we’re done here,” Billy spoke, tracing the patterns on the napkin with his finger. “He and Miranda are… well. He may stay with her.”

Dom nodded again. He’d gathered that much from casual observance in a few short days. The ship as Billy knew it was changing, and that Billy’s best mate was moving on after fifteen long years had to be a blow.

Looking up finally, he was met by the matte green gaze that hadn’t changed at all over the last several days. There was nothing new behind it that hadn’t already been there. No sudden revelation. Billy’s hair was as yet unwashed and stuck out in morning messy spikes, his jaw sandpaper rough. His eyes suggested that he’d done as much soul searching this morning as Dom had.

Billy set down his teacup and extended an open palm across the coffee table. It made Dom’s chest ache, knowing full fucking well that he shouldn’t move forward with this anymore.

“I asked you to give me twelve days, Dommeh,” Billy spoke with a certain gravitas, as though this at least was decided. “I’d rather have that much of you than none.”

Dom stared at the offered hand. Billy spoke of no regrets and taking chances. He had lost many things, many people, and that had taught him to cherish what he had. Dom could hardly fathom that he was the recipient of everything Billy had to offer right now. He didn’t deserve it, even as he slid his own hand into Billy’s and allowed himself be pulled over.

“Besides,” there was a tinge of laughter in Billy’s voice, “I still have you for two days more. You’re fucked if you think I’m letting you go yet.”

Dom allowed for a chaste kiss and the closeness, ”You really are very persistent,” he tried and Billy grinned, but it didn’t feel like genuine cheek. He sighed heavily, pulling back to face Billy directly. They were back to tiptoeing and diverting around this whole dilemma, and it was bloody frustrating.

“Elijah is upset with both of us, no matter what you say, and last night was….”

He stopped, looking up to find Billy’s eyes. There just wasn’t an easy way to put this. “I like you too, Bill. But I don’t want you to be hurt when I go.”

Billy set his empty teacup down on the saucer and ran a hand through his ragged hair. “If Elijah’s taken issue with anyone, it’s me and Orlando. It’s only to do with you because I’ve not been there looking after him like before. And if he won’t even let me explain myself, then he just needs time to cool off. I don’t think I was wrong to interfere last night. I couldn’t have sat back and watched, anyway.”

When he spoke again, the bite had softened away from his words. “I’m not made of glass, Dom. I know things don’t last forever.”

That wasn’t really the answer Dom was looking for. He knew Bill was no stranger to getting hurt, but it didn’t make him feel any better about being the cause. Elijah was still right. Dom was using Billy for his own temporary comfort, and Billy was happily taking what he could get, maybe because that was what he’d done all his life.

“Haven’t you ever … you know, been with anyone? Long term?” Dom asked hesitantly.

Billy looked down, picking at his fingernails. “Not really. I’ve had mates, you know, blokes I’d get together with sometimes, but it was never…” He left it open-ended, and Dom wondered how Billy might have finished it. _It was never… like that,_ or _boyfriends_ or _about love_. The last one suited Billy most. “You have, though?”

Dom nodded.

“What was he…” Billy started, but amended it with a smile, looking pink. “Never mind. Not my business, I suppose.”

He was surprised Billy would want to know about his past lovers at all, and there really had been only the one that had mattered. “His name was Jon, and he was an art student at Uni. A sculptor.”

He paused, thinking this was rather awkward to talk about, though Billy looked as though he wanted to know more.

“He was bohemian and classy and I was…” Dom found himself blushing at the word that came to mind. “…dazzled by him. I tripped over my own feet at the student union and dumped a latte in his lap.”

Billy laughed, “That lovely, eh?”

Dom grinned, “Sort of like young Peter O’Toole, and a little bit of Ian Curtis and that Calvin Klein underwear model with the long hair, and you might have something like him. Maybe. Christ, he was gorgeous. I was… I was sort of dumbfounded that he was interested, really.”

Dom stopped, remembering that he’d spoken to Jon many times about this trip, and Jon had suffered his obsession with it until it came to head that Jon wanted something else. “It lasted about a year, but didn’t work out in the long run. He graduated before me and went away to London, getting gallery showings and all that. I didn’t have time to go back and forth with my studies. Long distance was too hard.”

When Bill didn’t respond, the magnitude of what he’d said sunk in. Had Billy been thinking of just that? Trying to maintain this thing with Dom from half a world away?

Billy just looked down at their hands and nodded, scooting over into the window seat. For a moment, Dom hated that Billy just took it, didn’t even try to fight him on this. But it wouldn’t work. Dom would be distracted with his work, because he always had been, and Billy already knew how easy it was to lose track of someone over distance. Still, no matter how tough Billy thought himself, Dom hated knowing he was the cause of more pain in Billy’s life.

“Why didn’t you ever get together with Elijah?” he asked, since it had been gnawing at him through all this anyway. Billy clearly cared a great deal for the lad, even if he’d run off with some beautiful photographer. And whatever Billy said, Dom was certain Elijah harboured a little jealousy over Dom’s involvement. “Why don’t you?” He meant that in future tense, after he was gone and no longer causing a rift in their friendship.

Billy was quiet for some time looking out the window and still not letting go of Dom’s hand. The ocean was calm and the presence of sea birds overhead indicated that land was not too far off.

“Sometimes it’s hard to find what you want, I suppose,” he eventually answered. Pulling Dom around between his knees to lean back against his chest, he whispered unguarded words against Dom’s ear. “Right now, I just want you, Dom. For as long as you’ll give me.”

Remembering with a half-hearted smile that he’d never agreed to the Twelve Day thing to begin with, Dom sighed, letting his head lean against Billy’s cheek. Two days wasn’t long enough, but it was all they had left now.

He looked down at their hands, still entwined, resting together on his stomach. Elijah said people used what they needed, and it was true. Dom was a self-centered bastard, but he’d truly meant no ill will. He hadn’t meant anything to happen, but it had, and they’d have to end it when the time came.

He raised Billy’s hand to his lips and pressed a lingering kiss to the knuckle, hoping Billy could feel his apology.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dom considers his options and seeks help in an attempt to set things right.

_March 4th, Saturday  
Suva, Fiji  
3:33 pm_

  
“There’s another one on me. What is it?”

Dom leaned forward and picked the bug off Billy’s elbow, shaking his head in fond exasperation. “It’s a cicada, Bill, it’s just a different kind than the last one.”

“How many different kinds can there be? And you’re sure they don’t bite?”

“There are hundreds of different kinds, and none of them bite. They only eat tree sap and think about sex. That’s what all the noise is about.” Dom spoke with a slow grin as he pulled the oars through the water.

Suva was paradise, all Victorian elegance with tropical flavour, with modern resort hotels amidst centuries old settlements. It reeked of tourism and history, Captain Cook’s misadventures, piracy and beautiful people everywhere one looked. But Dom was in no mood for a big city today, and Billy stayed at his side as though any loss of contact would separate them before it was absolutely necessary. They’d opted instead to take a taxi out to the mangrove forests surrounding the capital, secluded away from everything and everyone, except some nesting pelicans and a million bugs, give or take.

“Sex is a noisy affair for cicadas, I guess,” Billy quipped, over the constant hum from the trees. “I’m not really seeing a shortage of them in the world though.”

“Did you know some of them stay underground for seventeen years? Well, the larvae do.” Dom pushed ineffectually at a tree with one oar, “Then they pupate, become cicadas and sing their hearts out for a shag. And then they die afterwards.”

“Wait seventeen years, sing, screw and die,” Billy repeated, “Sort of tragically romantic, really.” Another cicada flopped onto Billy’s shoulder and he picked it off himself, flicking it off his palm. When the bug failed to get airborne and fell into the water, Billy cringed apologetically to Dom. “We’ll name that one Ophelia.”

Dom snorted in amusement, not bothering to point out it wasn’t really singing, but the vibration of a special membrane on the males, or that Ophelia’s beloved was rather too preoccupied with his own guilty conscience and need for revenge to bother with her. Dom had spent an ungodly amount of time psychoanalyzing that particular play for a course at Uni. In the end, he decided that Hamlet was a perpetually indecisive fuck-up and handed in his dissertation after months of cursing every king Denmark ever had and all their spawn to come. It didn’t stop him from purchasing every version of the bloody thing Hollywood came out with, however. Billy would piss himself laughing if he knew which version was Dom’s favorite (albeit extremely loose) interpretation.

“Here, you row for a while, I’m tired.” Dom pushed the oars of their rented rowboat toward Billy.

“I don’t want to row either. Just leave it. Leave it and c’mere to me.” He bunched up a life-vest against his seat and stretched out in the bottom of the boat with his head against the padding, opening his arms out for Dom to come join him. “You’re too far away.”

Dom let the oars catch in their oarlocks and crawled over. “There’s supposed to be a lacy umbrella, you know,” he said, settling carefully over Billy, folding an arm over Billy’s chest to rest his chin and look him in the eye.

“What?” Bill asked.

“You know, all the paintings. Boy takes his girl out in a rowboat on some pristine lake surrounded by flowering trees and things. There’s always a lacy umbrella. It’s rowboat romance etiquette.”

Billy laughed, “Look who’s the romantic now. I don’t think you’ve noticed, but we’re floating around in a swamp. Not many flowers, no lace, and no girls for certain. And lots of bugs.” He waved away a swarm of gnats, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

“’S not a swamp, twat,” Dom protested, “Mangroves are salt water, with trees that form their own floating islands. The water’s clear, just full of roots and plants, and all the animals come here to have their babies. It’s like an enormous nursery school where they all learn the ropes before they grow up and go out into the big wide dangerous world.”

Billy grinned up at him, “A storyteller, that’s what you are. I bet you learn these things just so you can enchant anyone who catches you in a tale.”

“I just fall asleep with the telly on too often,” Dom professed. “That and I thought I might be biologist, once upon a time. I switched concentrations halfway through my first year.”

“Learned to boot,” Bill brushed at Dom’s hair, “You’d be ashamed of me. I only finished the sixth form tests because Gavin made me do it. He even tutored me himself, a bit. ’I’ll not have an uneducated scallywag working my shop.’ That’s what he said to me.” Billy dropped once again into a Highland burr in imitation, making Dom smile. “To be fair though, I don’t think he got much farther.”

“I’m not ashamed of you,” Dom murmured. Some of the smartest kids he knew had never completed school, but learned all kinds of things because they wanted to. Shiloh had been one of those. While in foster care, Shiloh had adored school, and she was ever eager to learn more. She read aloud from the Zoobooks Dom brought her (from Allie’s subscription when she’d bored of them), taught herself simplified Mariah Carey tunes on the piano by ear, and watched Reading Rainbow from the hospital’s libraries. Shiloh had been so very smart, just born in the wrong time and place. It made his heart ache to know with each passing day that Billy was a similar soul.

Dom studied Billy’s face, up close in his field of vision. There were freckles at his hairline where things were a bit thin, and the occasional grey hair intermingled with sun-bleached auburn. Billy’s eyes reminded him of old copper, bright fiery orange covered over with dusky green patina of years and exposure. The natural downward cant of them suggested a certain sadness, even when Billy was happy. Floating around a mangrove forest in an old wooden rowboat with no one else around for miles was romantic enough for Dom, and silently he wished it would never have to end.

The question had come to mind, certainly, more than once in the last day and night. And it was a big one, a scary, life-altering sort of question. He could ask Billy to come home with him. He _could_. It wasn’t as though he could pretend to be oblivious of the thought, the idea of it. It was just that there were too many negatives. He had work, in which he was in the office most hours of the day and on call the rest of the time, and it wasn’t likely to change. He knew he couldn’t pull back from it. If Shiloh’s death had done anything besides shatter him for a month, it had only strengthened his resolve to be even better at it now that he was pulling himself back together. Dom had time for little else.

Then there was Billy, who had gone through hell and come out on top. He had a great job here, and he got to travel the world with so many good people at his side, and he was happy. Dom couldn’t ask him to leave it all behind for something that could be a fluke, a wildfire that would burn itself to ash in the stark reality Dom’s world. And besides, Billy had unfinished business of his own, finding that old guitar and resolving things his sister. And there was Elijah, who needed someone to slow and steady him. Billy could do that once Dom was gone.

Mostly though, it was that Billy deserved so much more than Dom could give. Dom adamantly felt that he hadn’t earned having someone like Billy in his life at all. Billy was like a flame drawing moths to his light, and Dom was the spider in a dark corner. Dom had caused a mess in Billy’s bright world, and he couldn’t be responsible for breaking it up any more just because he desired what they all had in Billy’s glow. _Everyone wants what they can’t have_ , he reasoned firmly.

Billy’s fingers cupped his face, thumbs sweeping gently over his cheekbones. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Thinking so hard,” Billy murmured with a smile, scooping one hand back to palm Dom’s neck and pull him closer.

The kissing was something Dom was unlikely to forget, if only because Billy kissed like no one else. That was what had started it all in the first place and continued it, as Dom found it easy to be kissed and hard to concentrate on anything else when it sent a shiver down his spine that Billy’s hand followed. He wondered if Billy could even guess what he had been thinking of, if Billy could taste the selfish question in his mouth that he could not speak, the question he had no right to ask. _Come home with me. Stay with me. Don’t let me walk away._

Dom pulled his mouth away before it ran off with his thoughts and said something stupid. Laying his ear to Billy’s chest, he could hear the beating of his heart from one side and the rustle and buzz of the mangrove with the other, see the trees lazily floating by over the edge of the boat. He tried hard to burn it into his memory, so he could use it to fall asleep to when he was alone in his own bed with the never-ending thrum of an insomniac’s city outside his window.

“What will you do when you go home?” Billy asked quietly.

Dom picked at Billy’s shirtsleeve with restless fingers. “Back to work, I guess. They had me on desk duty for a while after… after. They’ll probably make me see the counselor again, make sure I’m not ‘unstable’.”

Billy nodded, kissing the top of his head, his hands stroking up and down Dom’s back.

“What will you do?” Dom asked. Part of him desperately wanted Billy to have something planned out, so that he wouldn’t feel so guilty.

Billy shifted, propping one leg up and the other cradled around Dom’s hips. His fingers swept soothingly through Dom’s hair, warm from the sun. “I don’t know. I thought about leaving the line. Pete always said he’d give me a job if I wanted. But I don’t know, Dommeh. I’m a little scared of it, to be honest.”

Dom made a questioning noise.

“Well, not scared really. Working the line’s comfortable, and… and I’m tired of searching. I’m not young anymore, Dommeh. Maybe it’s time I settle for what I’ve got.”

Dom nodded, trying to ignore the twinge in his gut. It only confirmed his reasoning that Billy didn’t want to leave the security he had here, and that he could not ask the question, not now.

Lifting his head, he found Billy’s eyes again. “You could call your sister though. Or find her address and write. At least let her know you’re okay.”

Billy sighed objectionably, ”Dommeh…”

“Why are you so afraid of her?” Dom interrupted.

Billy closed his eyes against Dom’s gaze and didn’t answer, turning his face away.

He’d pushed too far. It was the closest thing to utter rejection he’d received from Billy, and it felt like he’d put a wall between them. Billy wasn’t ready, and Dom wouldn’t be there to offer support and encouragement, and he should’ve just left it alone. “Sorry. I’m sorry Bill,” he whispered fervently, kissing Billy’s chin in apology until the hand on his neck squeezed gently in acknowledgement.

He put his head back down to Billy’s chest. “Maybe… if you decide to work for Pete, maybe Elijah could go with you. You said he’d done work there with you, right? That way you could both have a fresh start.”

He felt Billy nod at the suggestion and calmed a bit. “You could suggest that to him,” he spoke his thoughts aloud, “Just make sure he knows he has options. Even if you don’t go, he could.”

“Aye, it’s a good idea,” Billy agreed. “Dominic, make me a wee promise?”

He moved so he could hold Dom’s face in his hands once again, “Every now and again, when you’ve got a lot on your mind, I want you to stop. Just stop and look around at where you are and be still in the moment. All right?”

Dom looked back at Billy’s face, knowing that he was referring to that moment in the rain back in the Puketi Forest, and even earlier, up in the branches of the tree in Christchurch when Billy had put aside his own fear just to make Dom slow down. He looked around at the mangrove forest around them, at the birds flying overhead, smelled the air and the sea and Billy. He looked back at Billy’s face, a tiny smile on his lips. “Like right now?”

“Yeah,” Billy grinned, “Just like right now.”

“I will. I promise.”

Dom settled back down against the lulling rhythm of the heartbeat beneath him. Billy could pull him out of his thoughts and back to the present so easily. It was as though he could reach in, flip a switch and make the worries go away. He murmured softly to Billy. “I want to remember this.”

“Hmm?”

“This. I want to stop when I’m at home and remember this sound.”

There was a smile in Billy’s voice. “What else will you remember?”

Dom thought a bit. “I’m going to cook with cinnamon, and…” he looked up, grinning widely when he saw exactly what he wanted to see, “…and every time I do, I’m going to see you squinch your face up like that in my head.”

“Daftie. S’ terrible stuff.” Billy smoothed his face to a smile and drew a finger along the side of Dom’s eye, on the smile lines. “Do you remember the first time we spoke?”

“Yeah. You made me stop and listen to the whales.”

Billy shook his head, “No. That wasn’t the first time.”

Dom searched his memory, but came up empty. “When…?”

“The first day,” Billy smiled softly. “Right when we left Auckland. I asked if you wanted a drink. You didn’t even look at me.”

Dom gasped in a little surprise, and tried replaying that night in his head, but he remembered nothing of the people around him, nothing of Billy being there, save now he could hear the soft sweet voice he knew so well, and refusing him without even a glance.

“I got a smile from you – a real one – five days after, when we went for breakfast in the Galley, remember that?”

Dom thought back to that morning, when they’d hidden from the unfortunate crewman who had a bathtub full of Viggo’s rotten tomatoes and when, for the first time in months, Dom had really laughed. There had been many times since.

Billy stretched up and kissed him again. “All I wanted from you, Dommeh. That smile. My mum use to say you don’t really know anyone until you see them smile. I’ll remember you like that forever.”

  
 _1:26 am_

  
Lying in bed with everything still and quiet, Dom wondered why he couldn’t feel the boat moving, sailing steadily on its way to the last stop on this trip. It ought to feel like a car crash, a wild dizzying motion, chaos and fear, and then the stunned gasping silence at the end when one takes stock of their fingers and toes and other bits. Dom had only been in one car wreck as a teen, and thankfully hadn’t been hurt then.

This was different. This would hurt.

He turned his head on the pillow, making out Billy’s sleeping face beside him in the monotone blue of full night. Billy lay on his side with one arm curled under the pillow beneath his head. The other hand gently held Dom’s wrist under the covers, a point of contact even though the rest of their bodies weren’t touching.

The sex these last two days and nights had been nearly silent, unrushed and exploratory, where the drive was in discovering each other, reveling in being as close as possible, rather than just getting to the end. _Lovemaking_ , it called itself in Dom’s head rather than sex or fucking, because it was more than that. He’d never in his life been so cherished and caressed and wanted, never taken the time to give the same treatment to someone else. Dom would remember that too, on cold winter nights in New York, even though he knew it would carry an ache with it.

But Dom was used to a solitary life. He’d done it before, and he could certainly go right back to it, because this was a holiday, and the whole definition of holiday was that it wasn’t at all like real life. Real life was work and taxi ranks and overflowing subway bins, kids that needed him, kids that counted on him to make sure they lived happier lives than they were dealt. That was his job and his purpose, and he’d chosen it for himself.

Very slowly, he pulled his wrist away from Billy’s slack fingers and slid out of the bed. In the dark he found a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, pushed his feet into his shoes without bothering about socks, and took the keycard from its place on the desk. Glancing back at Billy’s soft slow snores, he slipped out the door, closing it without a sound.

He headed to the Midnight Club, certain that would be the best place to start, but luck saved him the hassle as Bean came out with Miranda on his arm.

“Dom, mate,” Bean greeted, “I thought you two had fucked off after work.”

Dom nodded hello to Miranda with a quick smile. “We did. I’m…ah. Billy’s still asleep.” He shuffled his feet for a moment, trying to be casual. “Have you seen Elijah in there?”

Bean blinked back at him, trying to work things out in his head. “Not tonight… Why?”

“How about Orlando? Seen him?”

“Is something wrong?” Bean asked suspiciously.

“I just need to clear some things up, Sean. About the other night.” Dom used the bartender’s name, hoping he’d understand that Billy didn’t need to be a part of this. “Can you help me find Elijah? Please?”

Bean searched his face for a few moments, and finally nodded.

Leaving Miranda at the doors of a Crew wing on Deck Four, Bean led Dom down to Deck Three. He slid his keycard into a door labeled _Crew Only, Bunkrooms A151 – A200_.

“He’s in A172, I think. Should be down past the laundry on the left,” Bean directed.

“Thanks. Oi, Bean!” he called him back before the door closed. “She’s lovely.”

He couldn’t quite tell in the low light, but Dom thought the barman might have blushed when he answered, a fierce grin on his face. “I know.”

Dom made his way down the long narrow corridor, running two fingers along the walls and doors he passed. Down another short hallway branching off of the main hall, he found A172 at the end. There was music playing inside.

Elijah looked like a different person when he pulled open the door. He wore sweat-bottoms, a white tank, an old pair of glasses, and a distinctly startled look.

“What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to apologize, and…” Dom pulled at his ear out of nerves, “Listen, can I come in for a minute?”

The boy stared at him distrustfully, fingers clutching a spiral bound notebook at his thigh. The music was Pink Floyd’s _Wish You Were Here_ , the volume lower than Dom would expect. “Please Lij?”

Elijah stepped back to let him through, pushing CD’s and more notebooks out of the way with his toes to make a space, and closed the door behind him before crawling up onto the bed.

The tiny space would drive Sean and any other claustrophobe mad. It was little more than a walk-in closet with a narrow cot built in to one side and a wardrobe on the other. Everything was whitewashed, and the ceiling low enough that Dom could easily flatten a palm against it. Where a window would be, a magazine print of Hokusai’s _The Great Wave of Kanagawa_ was taped to the wall. Elijah had no more personal effects than a very old boom box with a slightly newer disc-man plugged into it, the CD binders on the floor next to the lone outlet, and a shoebox full of other used spiral bound notebooks. It was no wonder Billy had given up his paycheck to have a livable space. Dom couldn’t imagine anyone living like this, especially someone as vibrant as Elijah.

The boy sat against the wall, the notebook propped on a thigh, but did not open it, eyes watching Dom like a hawk as he took in his surroundings. He’d pulled off the glasses and pushed them under a fold of his pillowcase.

Dom sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, for lack of anywhere else, and gestured to the notebook. “A journal?”

“Sort of,” Elijah answered offhand, shrugging when Dom waited for more explanation. “Just junk in my head. Sometimes stories. Or songs. Just ideas I get.”

Dom smiled softly. _And Ace had the gall to think he has no ambition._

“Where’s Billy?” Elijah asked, clearly wanting to get to the point.

“Sleeping still, I hope,” Dom told him, leaning his elbows on his knees and looking sidelong at the boy. “How are you doing?” He hoped that translated well enough without having to mention names.

Elijah smirked, “I’m not gonna cry on your shoulder, if that’s what you mean.” He thumbed the pages of the notebook. His face spoke louder than his haughty words, sadness and exhaustion pulling at the soft angles.

“Look,” Dom began, “I’m not sorry Orlando’s leaving, but I am sorry for the way he did it. I made the mistake of thinking he had enough tact to do it better.”

“Right,” Elijah glared back at him, “Because it had anything to do with you.”

“I told him to, Elijah,” Dom raised his eyes to meet Elijah’s directly. “He wasn’t going to bother otherwise. He was just going to abandon you, and I’ve seen too many kids grow up wondering why people they love disappear without bothering to explain why.”

Elijah’s eyebrows knitted, eyes fixed on his notebook. His face went through anger and hurt and rejection and back again as he thought Dom’s words through.

“I’m not a kid, you know,” he finally spoke, but to the notebook in his lap, “I’ve handled worse people than him.”

“You deserve better,” Dom countered. “You deserve someone who cares about the things you write in that notebook, and where you could take them. Not just someone who wants to fuck and run. Doesn’t matter where you come from, you deserve the same respect as anyone else. I gave Orlando the benefit of the doubt until he decided to try pulling me, when he knew I was with Billy, and I knew he was with you.”

He could see Elijah working this out in his head, and finally the anger in his expression was directed not towards Dom or himself, but to the memory of the photographer.

“Like I said,” Dom stressed. “You deserve better. Give people like Orlando the chance and they’ll break you before they walk away.”

“What about Billy, then?” Elijah shot back. “Taking your own advice?”

Dom looked away, down at the spread of CD cases on the floor and tried to come up with a valid answer.

“You’re just going to leave, aren’t you?” the boy accused.

“No! Dammit Elijah, do you think this is easy? I didn’t come here with an agenda. This never should have happened. The last thing I want is to hurt him. It’s going to hurt us both anyway.” Dom gave a heavy, shaky exhale, recollecting himself. “I’m not just going to leave, all right? I’m trying to clean this up the only way I know how. I need to let this go, and I need him to let this go. Which is why I’m asking you to take care of him.”

Elijah blinked at him, confused and nervous. “…What?”

“I’m asking you to give Billy something to concentrate on, Elijah. You. Don’t look at me like that, you need him just as much right now.”

“You’re fucking crazy–”

“You know each other better than I ever will, and I’ll never understand him the way you can. He cares about you, Elijah, probably more than you know–”

“But he’s in love with you, Dom.”

Dom sucked in a breath and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to erase the words Elijah spoke so simply into the room from his memory.

The boy didn’t stop there. “I can’t compete with that. I never could, even before you got here. He was always searching for something else.”

Dom covered his face with his hands, his voice reduced to a plea. “Stop. Just fucking stop, all right? _I can’t do this._ I can’t get attached.”

The silence stretched long and when Elijah broke it, his voice was no longer the least bit accusatory, but strangely curious. “Why not?”

Dom shook his head, and then shook it again, resolute. “I’d break him in my world, Lij. All the hate and use and fear and pain I see every day, I’d stifle him with it, snuff him out. I’d run him to the ground and I’d lose him, and he’d have changed his whole life all over again for nothing. I can’t do that to him. He deserves better than me.”

The old CD player spun to a stop, and the speakers of the boom box hummed lightly with dead air. Elijah tapped it off with a toe. When Dom finally looked up at him, Elijah was studying him with a mixture of sadness and perplexity, his eyes shadowed beneath knitted brows.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Elijah answered, “I can’t figure out if it’s selfish, you trying to be so selfless, or if you’re just a complete idiot.”

Dom chuckled bitterly, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it all. He wasn’t sure he knew the answer to that himself. “I think you have a different personality for whichever room of this bloody ship you’re in, Lij.”

“The world is a masquerade, isn’t it?” Elijah said, and then only his soft tone taking the edge off of his words, “You’re a coward, Monaghan.”

It was the truth, and Dom did nothing to deny it.

The boy unwittingly gave a yawn. One hand went back to rub at the nape of his neck, where yellow finger-shaped bruises still bloomed on his smooth skin. Elijah looked sallow and drawn here in his own skin, not the one he wore outside of this door.

“When was the last time you really slept?” Dom murmured.

The boy met his gaze now with a bleary understanding and a sheepish smile. “When did Billy finally wear you down?”

Dom pinked a little. One week ago, and so much had happened, the least of which being that Dom had stolen Elijah’s life-sized teddy bear. He stood up, pushing the boy back down when he moved to do the same, pulling the notebook from him and tucking it into the shoebox with the others. “Go to sleep. Or try, anyway.”

Dom pushed him further to lie down on the cot, and pulled the thin blanket up over him. Elijah laughed. “Waiting on me now?”

“When was the last time anyone tucked you in, eh?”

Elijah didn’t answer, but his eyes stated plainly that it had been a long time indeed.

Dom paused at the door and sighed, his hand on the light switch. “Goodnight, Lij. Think about what I said, all right?”

“Likewise, Dommie.”

Dom opened his mouth to correct him, but stopped. It was a nickname he reserved for family and friends. Elijah had used it almost from the start. He nodded, flipped off the light and closed the door behind him.

Back at his suite, he pulled off his clothes once again and slid back into the sheets. Still fast asleep, Billy rolled over with a wordless murmur, tucking himself around Dom like ivy. Dom shut his eyes, willing his breath to come less shakily. It didn’t. He surrendered to the tightness in his chest, wrapping his own arms around Billy, pushing his face into his thin, sweaty hair and tried desperately to absorb enough of him to survive this.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dom says goodbye.

_March 5th, Sunday  
Lautoka, Fiji  
5:31 pm_

  
Dom stood at the foot of the bed, considering the contents of his open suitcase. Nearly everything was in place, except the charcoal dress trousers he now wore with a black shirt, the coordinating jacket lying on the bed next to Billy’s tuxedo.

He pulled out a pair of comfortable jeans and his age-worn favorite button-down to wear on the flight home, which was less than seven hours from now. It would be a red-eye to Seoul, Los Angeles and finally to New York, back home and back to work.

The bathroom door erupted in steam when Billy emerged from his shower, leaving it open to air out as he shaved the day’s stubble close and combed his wet hair down to the neat, slick perfection of the lounge singer.

Billy’s hand gave Dom’s shoulder a tight squeeze before collecting his tux from the bedspread to dress. His other clothes had still not been pulled together to take back down to his stateroom. Dom started on that, folding them into neat piles on the bed, if only because it gave him something to do with his hands in this awkward silence while Billy got ready for the celebration in the lounge. Once the clothes were gathered, Dom looked nervously about the room for something else to straighten, and found that the maids had – as usual – put the suite in perfect order.

Sat on the edge of the bed, Dom worried a button on his cuff in and out of its buttonhole, surreptitiously watching as Billy put himself together. At the mirror in the bathroom, he flipped up his collar, looped the black bowtie around his neck, making certain it wasn’t twisted.

“Bill.”

Billy’s fingers crossed the left end of silk over the right and pushed it under, still looking at himself in the mirror. “Dom.”

Dom cringed a little at the singer’s deliberate light response, counteracting the _we-need-to-talk_ tone he’d used. Never mind that they’d spent most of the day walking the beach front shops of Lautoka, eating and laughing and avoiding talk of anything remotely serious, or that they’d come back to the ship and fucked like animals. It was frantic and desperate, both of them knowing full well it would be the last time, but not able to slow down and truly enjoy it as they had before.

Now that it came to head that Bill would be expected to entertain significantly more people than just Dominic for the remainder of the evening, he found himself counting hours. Four watching Billy’s last performance. Two taking a provided bus to Nadi International and checking in. Another twenty some-odd home. Leaving minutes to make certain everything would be all right here, to know for sure that he could leave, and walk away from this without fear.

Swallowing to gather himself, Dom dropped his eyes from the skin of Billy’s nape, the damp-combed hair, broad shoulders under fine white shirt linen. “You and Elijah will talk this out, right? Be mates again?”

Brows gathering slightly in the mirror’s reflection, Billy’s fingers floundered. “Of course.” He started again, smoothing the two ends, loop, tuck and pinch. “Just give him time, Dommeh.”

Dom twisted his silver ring around his thumb between his knees. Given his talk with the boy last night, he suspected Elijah was not truly mad at Billy, just pushing his edge hard enough to get the attention he wanted. The kid was more astute than Dom had thought these whole two weeks, an observer of everything, even as he made a show of seeming the fool with his own problems to contend with.

“I want you to watch out for him,” Dom implored quietly to Billy’s back.

One side of the tie came out far too big, and Billy’s nimble fingers pulled it apart to start again. “You know I will,” he answered tightly.

“Can you promise, Bill?”

 _Loop, tuck, pinch, pull_ went Billy’s fingers, sharp and swift. They slipped again, and the whole thing drooped. He exhaled through his teeth, straightened his shoulders and started again.

“Billy?”

“I don’t want to talk about this right now, Dominic.”

“Well, when is going to be a good time?” Dom snapped, “Because we’ve only got another four hours to–”

“We’ve got four hours,” Billy left the mirror, tie still loose, and stalked over to Dom until the knees of his trousers brushed Dom’s hands, looking down on him. “We’ve got four hours, and I have to spend them pretending I want nothing more in the world than to sing goodbye to another bunch of tourists, and then I have to let you leave.”

Kneeling on the carpet, Billy took Dom’s hands in his own and exhaled warm over the knuckles, as though trying to collect his thoughts. “If I could, I’d spend every second left with you. I’d bugger off work and count them with kisses, if I thought you’d let me.”

Dom squeezed his eyes shut against things unsaid. “Bill, don’t…”

“Don’t say that. I know, Dominic. But I can’t promise what you want me to promise, the things you aren’t saying. I can’t promise I’ll be happy, or Lij will behave himself if I watch over him, and nothing will change here, because I don’t _know_ , don’t you see? You can’t live your life on promises like that, Dommeh, because one day someone’s going to break them, and then what?”

The words were soft, yielding and rhetorical. When Billy drew away, Dom sucked in a breath and opened his eyes. Billy was already back before the mirror, straightening the ends of the tie once more.

“I’ll take care of him as best I can, Dom,” he spoke into the mirror, fingers looping and pulling silk again. “I’d have done without your asking me to.”

The bowtie was finally straight and neat at Billy’s throat. Dom held up the tuxedo jacket for him to slip into, gripping him firmly at the shoulders before he had the chance to move away, pressing the warm silk of his own shirt to Billy’s back.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Dom muttered to the back of Billy’s head, “I don’t know how to… to say goodbye to you without making everything worse than it already is.”

Billy sighed heavily, and Dom shifted to wrap his arms around his waist, not caring if he mussed the jacket. Billy brought his own hands to Dom’s wrists, speaking gently, “Just say what you’ve got to say, Dommeh. I won’t break, you know.”

“I never meant to hurt you. Not like Orlando meant to hurt Lij.” Billy’s head jerked to the side sharply at the name, making Dom regret bringing that correlation up. He squeezed his arms tighter, speaking close to Bill’s ear. “I never meant for this to happen. But it did and I can’t change it. And I… Elijah’s right, Billy, I’m a coward for not even facing you when I say all this, and for… leaving like this.”

“Dommeh–“

“Shut up, Bill. ‘M not finished yet.” Dom grumbled, still holding him tightly. He took a few deep breaths of the almond scent of the damp hair behind his ear before he gathered what courage he could muster and finished what he had to say. “I don’t regret it though. I don’t regret a single second I had with you.”

Billy’s features softened as he turned in Dom’s embrace, whispering to his face, “Neither do I.”

“I wish I could be the way you are,” Dom drew back a bit at Billy facing him, afraid proximity would just make this harder. He nervously adjusted Billy’s lapels. “I… I tried, Billy. I really tried to just be happy with today and not think about tomorrow like you, but I can’t. I can’t help but worry. I worry about so much.”

“I never asked you to change, did I?” Billy asked. “What’s got you so worried?”

“Everything,” Dom groused irritably, “Everything I’ve come in and messed up. I’ll worry about Elijah losing his head if you didn’t pick it up for him. And you and Bean not being mates anymore. And Orlando finding someone else to roll over. And Katie.”

“Katie?”

“Yeah, Pete’s little girl,” Dom cringed inwardly. “I didn’t even tell her goodbye, Billy. I should’ve, and I didn’t because I…” He didn’t finish that. It sounded even worse knowing he’d screwed that up because he’d been highly distracted by the man currently in his company. He sighed, “I’m going to worry about you most of all. I want you to be happy, Bill. I want to know… I _need_ to know that you will be.”

Billy drew him close, heedless of Dom’s internal struggle, and pressed a kiss to his cheekbone, hands rubbing over his shoulder blades. “My Dom. With so much worrying about all of us, who’s going to fret over you?”

Dom’s eyes fell to half-mast at Billy’s soothing ministrations, unable to resist. “Sean.”

Billy chuckled and kissed his nose, then his mouth. “We could write. Then you’d know I’m all right, and Lij is...” then his face fell and his eyes grew distant, and Dom could tell exactly what he was thinking. If they lost track of each other with no sense of closure, the worry would be even worse for both. That was why Dom needed this to be final, needed to be sure that this was the right path, because any doubt would have him worrying a hundred times more. Billy already knew that, and already had one lost love to contend with in that way.

Dom gave up on resistance and cupped Bill’s cheek to whisper, “You know I’d rather you write her than me. She’s your family, Billy. Promise–” he winced, but continued the plea anyway, “Promise you’ll try, even if it’s just getting Elijah to show you the internet again.”

Billy’s eyes were fastened to the buttons of Dom’s shirt, fingers restlessly plucking at the silk. “I… I’ll try, Dom. I don’t know if…” he sighed, face growing more tight. “Maybe someday, I’ll try.”

Billy was pulling inward, and it twisted Dom’s heartstrings to know that Maggie was the only thing that really made Billy shut down like this. Whether Billy feared he couldn’t find her, or worse, that she’d forgotten him, he couldn’t even begin to ask. It wasn’t his place to open that door any more than he already had.

Dom brought his other hand up to cup Billy’s face and leaned to press their foreheads. “Hey. You made me laugh when I needed you to. You made me happy. You gave me back my smile, Bills.”

Billy’s face smoothed out and his lips quirked at Dom’s slip-of-the-tongue. _There you are_ , Dom thought, thrilled that he knew how to pull Billy back from that dark, shuttered place. It was something he was good at with kids too, but he still didn’t know how to walk away, not from Billy. Kids understood goodbye on a superficial level, and the idea in his job was that they’d forget he even existed at all. Billy was entirely different. He’d said goodbye to people all his life, and remembered them well.

Billy gave another heavy breath and stepped back, scanning the room, his own neat pile of clothes and the open suitcase on the bed. “We’re all packed, then?”

Dom nodded, slipping into his own jacket when Billy held it out for him.

“I can have Elijah take my things out while we’re away,” Billy spoke to the room and the clothes that didn’t belong there, and Dom nodded again blankly.

“What’s this?” Billy asked, pulling the wrinkled paper bag out of the net pocket, where it was tucked into the suitcase with ties and toiletries.

“Those greenstone necklaces I bought for Sean and his girls,” Dom answered, watching Billy unfold the bag, “Back in Christchurch, remember?”

“Aye,” Billy reached in and withdrew one fold of tissue. “Who is this one for?”

Dom frowned at the carving Billy unwrapped. It was the _Manaia_ , the spirit guardian pendant that looked like both a dragon and a bird. Dom had never set much store in spirituality, and still didn’t know what had possessed him to buy it. It was meant to watch over someone in need, and Dom knew far too many people like that to give to just one person.

“I didn’t have anyone in mind for that one, really. I just… bought it.” He took it from Billy and unwound the silken cord. His thumb stroked over the stone, mottled jade expertly carved and polished to a matte sheen. “Maybe… Maybe it’s–”

“Dominic,” Billy murmured, taking the _Manaia_ back. His tone indicated that he was already reading Dom’s intentions. “You didn’t buy this for me, and I won’t take it as a peace offering anyway.”

Dom watched as Billy carefully tied the ends into slipknots around the cord with deft fingers, and then brought a knuckle under Dom’s chin to lift it and looked him full in the eyes.

“I think this one is for you to wear, but it’s not yours.” He slipped the cord around Dom’s neck, tucking it beneath the silk of his shirt. The jade was cold, but with Billy’s palm over it, the stone warmed to a live heat quickly where it hung below his collarbones. “This you keep for your kids, so they may find their way to you.”

Dom drew in a breath at the clarity Billy gave the piece, shocked silent as he felt the new weight around his neck, and the purpose of wearing it.

Before he could process what was going on, Billy was tugging at his bowtie again, unbuttoning his collar and pulling his own double twist greenstone out and off. He wrapped the cord neatly in a coil and lifted the left flap of Dom’s jacket to slip it into the pocket at his breast, “And this one you keep because it’s no longer lost.”

“Billy–“

“Keep it,” Billy spoke lowly, with an almost fierce edge and fire back in his eyes as they darted between Dom’s own. “You don’t have to wear it. But keep it.” He turned away and went back to the mirror to fix his bowtie once again.

Dom stared after him, pulling the stone out of his pocket. It sat hot in his palm from Billy’s own skin, worn so long that one side was more glossed than the other, the knots in the cord tightened to a point that they could never be undone. Billy had never taken this pendant off in Dom’s presence, not for bed or showers or anything else. He knew what it represented, he must know that to give this to Dom was so much more than a gesture of friendship, and now of all times when Dom could not return it in kind.

“You didn’t buy this for me either,” Dom told him pointedly, holding the stone out as Billy turned, tie back in place.

“Yes I did,” Bill returned, crossing to him. “I didn’t know you then, Dommeh, but I promised myself I’d wear it until I met you.” Billy’s hand pushed Dom’s fingers closed around the stone. “Sometimes you keep your promises. They just don’t turn out how you thought.”

Dom squeezed his fist around it, looking down because he could not bear the expression on Billy’s face.

“Keep it, Dom,” Billy whispered again, one hand pushing a lock of Dom’s hair from where it was catching his eyelashes, “For me.”

He pulled Dom’s chin up and kissed him tenderly, close lipped. Dom very nearly broke, the hand still clutching his gift skirting around Billy’s neck to keep him there with their foreheads touching.

Billy’s watch beeped.

  
 _6:00 pm_

  
A shout went up from the bar and a round of applause swept the Indigo as they entered. Dom was startled, still getting over one shock to find another around the corner. The lounge was filled with significantly more patrons than usual, and many among them were crew.

“Shite,” Billy said under his breath, blushing as he muttered to Dom under the clapping and cheering. “They always do this to me on the last night. Got to be a bit of a custom, I think, but I don’t know why. _Sit down_ , Ian, you great arse.”

Dom grinned at him, recovering enough to step out of Billy’s glory, “So many people vying for your attention, Bill.”

“Right,” Billy nodded at Dom with a wink, “You know who I’m really singing to, though.”

Billy leapt onto the stage and took a modest bow, becoming the Lounge Singer one more time. Dom bit his lip as he headed for his usual stool. Insufferable stupid romantic wonderful Billy, who took his mike from the stand he never used and fell right into the silver-tongued performer. The one who worked the audience in his black tie and sparkling smile, speaking scripted words about how lucky the Kismet and Oceanic was to have such a fine group of guests, how much fun it had been, and how this was to be a one hell of a send off. He played to the crowd and got both the guests and the crew riled before launching into a song that never failed to delight anyone in its midst.

 _Somewhere beyond the sea  
Somewhere waiting for me  
My lover stands on golden sands  
And watches the ships that go sailin’…_

“The usual, mate?”

Bean’s smiling voice wafted over Dom’s shoulder. Dom grinned, still watching Billy. “Unusual. Surprise me tonight, Bean.”

He turned on his stool to see what the bar man would cook up, intrigued when the typical whiskey glass came out. But instead of the twelve-year-old Glenfiddich, Bean went into a cupboard below the bar and propped the bottle on its edge for Dom’s perusal.

“How does 1972 Macallan strike you?”

Dom rounded his brows as Bean poured the dark, strong liquid into the tumbler, neat, as ice would dare melt and dilute the fine vintage. “Do I need to sign a contract?”

“Nah,” Bean laughed, placing the Scotch back in the special cupboard. “You’re free and clear, so long as you don’t tell Bernard.”

Dom turned the glass on the bar with nervous fingers, but did not lift it to drink. “Why?” he asked.

“’Cause it’s his.”

Dom snorted and watched Bean mix drinks for the waitresses on the floor, before he tried again. “Bean? Really, why Macallan?”

“Mate,” Bean paused and gestured to Billy with a shaker, “I pulled that little bastard out of a filthy tube station when he was younger than you. We’ve not got many secrets between us.” Dom studied Bean’s smiling face, searching out what secrets he’d been told and finding them guarded with the protection of a true friend, not to be passed on.

“I’ll tell you one thing I know and you don’t, Dom. Bill lives his life by two things.” Bean counted them off on finger and thumb, “Hope, and the choice to take hold of it.”

Dom still didn’t raise the drink to his lips, dropping his eyes to it until Bean paused his work and leaned on the bar before him. “He’s happier with you than I’ve ever seen him,” he said before returning to the mixers.

“And what about you?” Dom countered, “Would you be happy without him? Will you?”

It was a low blow, but Bean only shook his head with a smile. “He’ll always be like a brother, no matter where either of us are in the world. You can leave family, and family can leave you, but they’re still in your blood. You know that, same as me. Same as him.”

Dom nodded, raised the glass and sipped. The scotch was strong, fiery and fierce in his mouth and throat.

“I think the question is,” Bean proposed, watching him speculatively, “Would _you_ be happy without him?”

Dom shook his head sharply, “Not the point.”

“No?”

“Not at all,” Dom held the bar man’s questioning gaze, steadfast.

“Why not?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want, Bean.” Dom took another sip of the whiskey and sighed, the aftertaste drying on his tongue. It wasn’t something he could easily explain, and he didn’t expect Bean to understand anyhow. Dom’s feelings weren’t at issue here. He had and could continue doing without a number of things he wanted. He would not, _could not_ tear Billy away from everything he’d fought to have for his own selfish desires. Dom had spent his whole life striving to make others happy, whether it was his parents, his friends, or the kids he looked after. He’d failed many times, and he’d not add Billy to that list. “What I want isn’t always the same as what’s best for someone else.”

Bean looked him over solemnly, then shrugged. “It’s your choice.”

“I’ve made it,” Dom returned, just in case Bean doubted him.

“Bean,” the gruff, firm voice suddenly behind Dom had them both jumping to attention. Bean recovered first as the ship’s Captain settled on the stool beside him.

Bernard continued to give Bean a hard glare, though his light eyes were sparkling. “Rumour has it you are depriving my ship of its masseuse. I’m not entirely sure I can condone this.”

“You’ve got it all backwards, Bernard,” a lilting woman’s voice interrupted, and Miranda drew up to the bar in a white dress, arching a brow at Bean, “I’m fairly certain I’m plundering your ship of the best bar man in the Pacific, and he’s a tough barnacle to uproot, let me tell you that.”

Sean Bean blushing as furiously as a lass proved to be the high point of the evening.

Billy sang on, tune after beautiful tune as the evening turned to night. Dom sat at the bar and listened as patrons came and went around him, one glass turning into three of possibly the finest whiskey he’d ever had. It reminded him of the ten thousand dollar price tag, all amenities, meals and expensive rare beverages included. Had it been worth it?

A hand touched his arm, startling him out of his thoughts. He was surprised to see Liv sat beside him, smiling gently. Past her, that the sun had long since set, another two hours lost in his thoughts.

“What’s a girl gotta do to get a dance around here, hmm?” Liv asked, her soft voice teasing. She was dressed in a wine-coloured gown, eyes smoky and hair swept into an elaborate twist.

Dom straightened and offered a half-arsed grin. “You could have any man in this place, love. What on earth are you doing asking me?”

“Not taking no for an answer, that’s what,” she said archly, hauling him to his slightly unsteady feet. On the dance floor, she placed Dom’s hand at her waist and took his other hand in hers, making him dance like a proper gentleman.

“Don’t look so cheerful,” she fussed over him, voice mocking sweetly. “People will think you can’t wait to leave.”

Dom chuckled, “I couldn’t wait to leave when I got here.”

“And now?”

Dom could see Billy strolling along the edge of the bandstand, singing the low, sultry words of Nina Simone once again.

 _He needs me  
He doesn't know it, but he needs me  
And so no matter where he goes  
Though he doesn't care  
He knows that I'm there_

Dom closed his eyes briefly, silently cursing Billy for doing this, not even bothering to change the pronouns to something this straight and narrow crowd would find more appropriate. Looking around though, Dom could see that he was the only person in the lounge that even noticed in the first place.

“Now I have to,” He murmured in answer to Liv’s question. He had to get away and get back to reality, before he got it in his head that things could stay rose-coloured forever. “I have to go home and get back to work.”

 _He needs me  
I ought to leave him, but he needs me  
I know that I ain't very bright  
Just to tag along  
Oh, but right or wrong_

 _Shut up Bill_ , Dom thought, turning Liv so his back was to the bandstand. Problem was that box-stepping slowly around as his mother had taught him had him turning right back, able to see Billy’s tuxedo trousers, and the way his small hand was tucked in one pocket, the other holding the mike so the aching words filled the room and surrounded him.

 _I'm his and I'm here  
And I'm gonna be his friend or his lover  
'Cause my one ambition is  
To wake him and make him discover  
That he needs me  
I've got to follow where he leads me  
Or else he'll never know that I need him  
Just as he needs me_

He excused himself from Liv apologetically when the song finally ended with a crescendo from Ian’s piano, and made his way to the toilets.

The whiskey had caught up with him in more than one way. One of them was that if one got him a little sloshed and sang him a song, he was a soft-bellied coward at his worst, quietly bumping his head against the solid oak partition of the stall and trying to get through the rest of this night.

He’d made his decision, what was best for them both, and he was damned if he wasn’t sticking with it. He’d pulled screaming kids from their crying parents on the basis that it really was for the best. He’d been harsh with street hardened teenagers, pushing buttons left, right and center until they broke, even wept, in order to dig out filthy, terrible secrets, all in the name of patching them up and showing them the way to a better life. He did it because he believed in it, even though he hated parts of the process. These things took time, and time was the one thing here he’d run out of. He took a deep breath and unlocked the stall.

Approaching the sinks, Dom was immediately aware of an unwanted presence blocking the door out in the mirror’s reflection, one he’d not heard follow him. The best course of action was to wash his hands and ignore him. It didn’t work, unfortunately.

“Black and grey from head to toe,” Orlando commented, dark eyes raking Dom’s suit from his vantage point blocking the door. “Bit somber for a big to-do like this, don’t you think?”

Drying his hands on the provided towels, Dom turned to face the photographer, who made no move to let him leave, head cocked slightly to the side and hands in his pockets. Dom exhaled disparagingly and pocketed his own hands, “Make your point or move, Ace.”

Orlando gave him that dazzling grin and reached into his jacket, pulling out a photo as he came forward. “I just wondered if you’d reconsidered my offer for a photo of our lovely lounge singer.” He said innocently, showing Dom the color print of Billy singing on stage. “Nice matte finish, UV protected and excellent for framing.”

Dom looked back up from the picture. “I told you before, I’m not interested.”

When he moved to step around the taller man, Orlando smoothly blocked the way again. “Oh. Perhaps you’d like something a bit more personal, then.”

Orlando pulled another print from his jacket. It was a dark shot, mostly shadows and moonlight, but Dom could make out details of lounging chairs on the Sun Terrace of the ship, and two figures standing intimately close by the railing, with the ocean sweeping out behind them. There was no question of who they were.

Gritting his teeth behind closed lips, Dom lidded the vicious urge to lay Orlando out flat on the marble floor. It wasn’t so much that the man was incapable of taking no for an answer unless it was on his terms, it was that he’d intruded upon a private moment on this holiday and was openly, unabashedly using Dom’s attachment to Billy for some sort of power play. It was that he’d used Elijah for the same purpose. It was that he dared do this to Dom in order to sour his last few minutes here.

“I have the negatives down in my work room,” Orlando spoke softly, encouragingly, “We could go down and get them together, if you like. You can keep them.”

Dom took a few moments to breathe through the anger he felt bubbling acidly in his throat. It would do no good to throw punches or threats, and he was willing to bet that a fight or submission was exactly what Orlando wanted. Dom wasn’t about to submit to either of this bastard’s desires. What his mind did light on to shift this balance was surprising. Everyone had a weakness, and Dom was good at searching them out.

He softened the hard edges of his features as he took the photo and came in close to tuck it back in Orlando’s jacket pocket. “Sometimes I wonder what sort of childhood people like you must have had to become the way you are. But I don’t have time anymore to help you sort it out, Ace.”

The predatory glint slid right off Orlando’s face at that, backing him up a step from Dom’s space. Dom skirted around him to block the door himself, a move that Orlando was too startled to stop.

“We’re a bit alike, you and me.” Dom told him with empathy in his voice, “We both build walls to protect ourselves. The difference is that mine has windows to the outside. Yours only has pictures of what _you_ want to see.”

Dom held the photographer’s flustered gaze, watching it melt through shock, anger and… yes, that was a little shame too, just before it dropped all the way to the floor. There was a second in which Dom truly pitied Orlando for whatever had built his wall, but he wasn’t going to stick around for the story. Orlando had a choice to keep his photos and his humiliation, or he could chisel himself a window, maybe someday even a doorway. Dom knew all too well how hard it was to do the latter.

Turning his back on him, Dom pulled open the door to head back to the bar. He took his usual stool and watched as Bean silently poured him one last pint of Guinness. It was 8:56 pm. Billy was singing Sinatra’s _It All Depends on You_ , and Dom waited to see what Orlando would do when he left the toilets.

“He always ends the show with this one, Bill does.” Bean was telling Dom, “He says it’s an oxymoron on a ship called the Kismet.”

Orlando finally made his way from the mens and was accosted almost immediately by Mr. Rhys Davies. The large man was not quite roaring drunk, but made it clear to the whole lounge that he’d like one last photo with the missus, and that they’d be back next year. When it was done, the photographer darted one last nervous glance in Dom’s direction before removing himself quietly from the party.

“What did you say to him in there?” Bean asked, looking Dom over with intrigue.

Dom shrugged. “I told him something I don’t think he’s ever heard before,” he said, and swallowed the last of his pint.

Bean regarded him with thoughtful eyes and put a hand across the bar. “You’re a good man, Dom.”

Dom took it firmly, “Same goes both ways, Bean.”

“I owe you another pint for whatever it was you said to knock that git on his arse, but it looks like we’re winding down to zero, eh?”

Dom sighed. Down to zero, to the end. “Rain check, then.”

Bean broke into a wide grin. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

Dom nodded, dismissing it. He doubted he’d ever see Bean again, it was just the sort of thing the traveling man said to people he met in good stead, but never intended to uphold. The Indigo Lounge was clearing out, and there was no time to linger. He met Billy’s eyes across the room, collecting one last look at him in this element, as the incredible lounge singer he once feared, and turned to leave with the rest.

He found Elijah waiting in his suite. “I wanted to carry your stuff out,” the boy explained himself, “And took Billy’s away. I had to hide from the crazy old bag in 204, else I’d have been carrying hers instead.”

The boy turned to busy himself while Dom changed his clothes, careful to take Billy’s greenstone from the breast pocket before packing the suit. It felt wrong to keep it so close. He popped it into the paper bag that held all the other gifts, but then it would be in the cargo hold of at least two different planes. But what if his luggage got lost? It happened all the time and Billy had told him to keep it. He folded up the top of the bag and pushed it into his carry-on rucksack. That way, it would be with him, but far enough away.

It was 9:15. Elijah silently took his suitcase and led the way to the lifts, up to the topmost deck, where all the crew were lined up by the steps down to the pier to say goodbye. Dom took a breath and followed, shaking hands and nodding his way down the line, seeing the faces of Viggo, Bean and many friends he’d made for a final goodbye and then all too soon, it was Billy’s face he found before him.

“Dominic.” Billy’s voice was quiet on a deck full of people, laughing and saying their goodbyes to acquaintances they’d never see again, but it was the only one Dom heard.

Billy breathed from his mouth, slow, drawn breaths as his eyes darted between Dom’s. He swallowed, and then cracked a small smile, putting out a hand. “I’ll miss you.”

Dom knew this routine, this show of excellent first-name-basis service in the presence of Billy’s superiors standing not twenty feet away. Dom dropped his eyes to the proffered hand, small and tidy, calloused along the outer edge of the thumb and the tips of his fingers. He took it, squeezing, and feeling the strength in the returning grip.

”Promise me one more little thing, Bill.”

Billy didn’t even attempt to hide the emotion in his words, “Anything you want.”

Dom leaned in and looked the singer with as much depth as he could. “Find that old guitar of yours.”

Billy let out a sharp bark of laughter, the kind that spoke of foolish dreams and chasing rainbows, and nodded. The smile fell from his face and he dropped his eyes to their joined hands, one finger stroking over Dom wrist as if collecting as much touch as he was allowed to.

Elijah hesitantly cleared his throat. The line was pushing ahead, and Dom was holding everyone up. Pulling his hand away, he looked back up into Billy’s eyes and whispered, “Goodbye.”

It took a deep breath and a tight nod to the other well wishers, but Dom walked the remainder of the deck, down the steps and across to the dock without looking back.

“End of the line, Sir.” Elijah spoke quietly, and Dom opened his eyes not knowing he’d squeezed them shut as soon his feet stopped moving. The boy set down his suitcase and looked at him sympathetically.

“Ah… yeah.” Dom tried desperately to collect himself. “Eljiah. You’ll be…” he shook his head and started over. “Take care of yourself, okay? And just. Be careful. Don’t get too lost in your own head, yeah?”

Dom grimaced, knowing he sounded an awful lot like Sean, but Elijah simply gazed back at him as though he was seeing all the things Dom didn’t say.

Elijah glanced down in thought, smiling wider and extending his hand. “I’d tell you to take your own advice, but you’re hopeless, Dommie.”

 _Hopeful_ , Billy’s voice said in Dom’s head. He didn’t repeat it out loud, but yanked the kid in and hugged him fiercely. Elijah was only too happy to return it in kind.

The airport bus driver made a last call, and Dom let go of Elijah to grab his own suitcase and shove it into the cargo hold. With a last wave, he found a seat and closed his eyes as the bus began to move away from the pier, the Kismet and everything he was leaving behind.

The ride to the airport in Nadi took twenty-five minutes. At the airport he waited thirty minutes at the Check In, another twenty through Security, and thirty-five at Customs before finally finding his gate and settling down by the window to watch the workers go about readying the plane.

His seating row finally called, he gathered his rucksack and found his seat, thankfully by a window.

It wasn’t until the plane began to level off at fifteen thousand feet that he noticed his hands were trembling, and the ache in his throat had not eased no matter how hard he swallowed.

Digging into the rucksack, he found the paper bag, searching out Billy’s pendant. It would be better in his pocket. Closer.

His hand fumbled around the contents and came in contact with thick card instead of soft tissue paper, something that had not been there before. He blinked, slowly pulling it out.

It was a note written on an Oceanic postcard, the like of which he’d already seen, with a clean, looping handwritten script.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six months later...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a graphic in this chapter. Please let me know if you can't see it, since it's sort of vital.

August 24th, Thursday,  
Queens, NYC  
6:27 pm

  
Dom dotted the I’s in his name, messily scribbled down the date on the report, and good riddance. That had been a ridiculous two-month long waste of energy in which a rather well known debutante and her husband spat at each other in divorce court and then at custody hearings. In the end, they reconciled sappily and as publicly as possible before collecting their four-year-old Alicia without hearing two words Dom might have said about the emotional scarring this incident may have caused her.

Scooting it into a manila folder to be filed, he stood and shrugged into his jacket and his new overcoat, a three quarter length double-breasted number that Cate had said made him look like he worked in a Manhattan high rise with a critical squint to her eyes, so he knew she approved.

When Sean dropped a folder onto his desk, Dom glared at him.

“All you have to do is autograph,” Sean appeased, holding up a placating hand.

Dom made a show of how taxing this was and sat back down with his coat on, reaching again for his pen.

The photograph paper-clipped at the top of the sheath of papers gave him pause. The boy was sandy haired and hazel eyed, the face of a child who had seen too much in too short a time.

He’d made impromptu arrangements early that morning for a temporary foster family until one that was more prepared could be found. He’d gone with Sean to the location, waited while the police served the warrant and took the boy and his infant brother into protective custody. Justin was a cautious and reserved boy of seven, with whom Dom had spent two hours asking gentle questions, taking copious notes in his head and then on the file later from the recording. It was nothing he hadn’t dealt with before. Neglect, possible abuse. Parents both addicted to methamphetamines and hardly capable of taking care of themselves. The baby Ryan showed obvious developmental defects and was clearly ill when they’d arrived. Sean had gone with the EMS to the hospital, while Dom ushered Justin to the foster home to make sure he was as comfortable as a child could be in such a situation. It had taken up most of the day, and Dom had returned to the office more spent than usual, knowing there was still paperwork to catch up on. He dutifully ignored the sharp edge of déjà vu he’d felt all day long.

“You see it too, right?” Sean spoke with uncharacteristic trepidation, “He reminds me of Shiloh.”

At first Dom hadn’t seen the similarity, but Sean’s words named it, setting an ache deep in his chest. He nodded, pushing the clip more firmly down at the top of the page to hold the picture in place. It didn’t do anyone any good to be comparing the two. Not the two of them assigned to the case, and not the boy or his baby brother.

Dom sighed, closing the file and pushing it back across the desktop. “He’s not, though. He’s different, Sean.”

Dom caught his best friend’s eyes and held them. They would not have a repeat of Shiloh’s case, and Dom intended to keep her memory as a lesson to all of them. Sean nodded with a tight smile in agreement, and Dom gathered up his briefcase once again.

“Since when are you in such a hurry to leave?” Sean asked, putting the files in his box and gathering up his own things, offering a wry smile. “Got a date?”

“Yeah,” Dom deadpanned just long enough to watch Sean blink in surprise, a melee of question’s forming in his mouth. “With curry and Monty Python and my new sofa.”

Sean darkened and sighed. “I wish you’d just…”

Dom flicked his brows up with a look of practiced ambivalence. He knew what Sean wished, as he’d heard them all often enough. _I wish you’d settle, Dominic. I wish you had something outside of this thankless job. I wish you didn’t go home every night to TV and take-out._

Sean held back his usual monologue and rethought his words, authority hinting in his tone. “Darshan’s curry might give you food poisoning. You know how it does that. You might be out for the count all weekend hugging the can.”

Sean knew Darshan was his favorite takeaway place, worthy of getting off the train a stop early and taking the long way home, but Dom knew what he was getting at. Their curry was exquisite and did absolutely no such thing.

“I mean it, Dominic. Call in sick tomorrow, I can hold it down. Go walk the museums, or better, buy yourself a new set of paints and make me something to hang over the mantelpiece. Then come over for dinner on Saturday. The girls want to see you.”

Dom smiled softly, ”How is Chris doing?”

“Wakes up and throws up and gives me hell for putting her in this predicament a third time around.” Sean glowed, “She’s beautiful, Dommie. So, what do you say?”

Dom retied Sean’s scarf in a less schoolboy fashion for him and patted his cheek. “Dinner, yes. Tomorrow, there’s work needs doing.”

Sean relented with a disapproving look and jingled his keys as they left the lobby. “You need something, Dommie. Your whole life in the last six months has been rinse and repeat. Maybe you don’t see it, but it shows. You haven’t stopped for breath since New Zealand.”

Dom looked down the street, away from Sean’s concern. Sean was a perceptive bastard, and a sneaky one to boot, planting words that triggered a little tug somewhere in Dom’s chest. He suspected Sean did it on purpose. Dom had held out on him for quite awhile about what exactly had gone on in those crazy two weeks, and it was only after finishing an entire bottle of wine when the girls had all gone to bed that Billy’s name had slipped out. Sean had taken appropriate piss that night on his terrace (having finished a bottle of his own), but the week afterwards, his playful nudging had dwindled to meaningful glances, and then dropped off to indirect buzzwords. Dom was fairly sure he hadn’t said anything earth shattering, but Sean certainly hadn’t forgotten it.

“I’m just tired, Sean, that’s all. The headaches… and that prescription doesn’t work for shite. I just don’t sleep well anymore.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. Dom did have a hard time sleeping, and the headaches persisted.

“Right. The headaches.” Sean commented, his forehead wrinkling in resignation. “All the more reason for you to take a break, Dominic. See you tomorrow.”

Waving Sean off at the parking garage, Dom descended the steaming steps to the V Line at Steinway.

Getting off at 63rd, he jogged around the corner market to the crack in the wall that served as New York City’s best-kept secret among Indian cuisine.

A chilly autumn breeze had come up and the streetlamps were beginning to wink on as dusk fell over the city. Dom shivered a little as he rolled the top of his paper bag firmly to keep the food warm. It was nine blocks to his flat, but lamb curry and pashwari naan were easily worth the walk.

It wasn’t really that Sean’s suggestion didn’t appeal. A job like theirs was difficult to stomach nine days out of ten. Dom had been very careful to keep his distance since he’d been back to work, and hadn’t even complained when he was given desk work and follow-ups for another week upon return, before going back to the hardcore cases. A long weekend away was something everyone longed for, but could rarely have.

He’d indulged in the pay rise he had received in April, despite his discomfort at knowing it was meant as a reward. He had presented all of his notes and files, answered questions on the witness stand, and gone home finally feeling this case was over. In an unprecedented show of organization within the system, Walter was convicted and sentenced without appeal within a few months, and Dom could let it rest knowing the bastard was becoming acquainted with stylistic choices in neon orange for the next several decades. The pay rise had been pretty substantial, and had come with a letter of commendation from the higher authorities he could have done without.

He figured now that he wasn’t saving every extra penny for one goal, he could stand to spend some of his extra wages on a few long put off desirables, like this overcoat, some new shoes, and finally a replacement for the twenty year old sofa he’d taken from Sean’s brother Mack when he’d first come to New York. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t putting a little away for another trip someday, but he hadn’t decided on where to go, and that sofa had seen its best days when Sean and Mack were still playing Little League.

That was the thing about this city. Most big cities, really. So many things were used beyond the point of uselessness. Sometimes, like the apartment building he lived in, they could be patched up and made special again. Dom admitted to most visitors that the original exposed brick that made up his entire south living room and bedroom wall was why he’d liked the place, especially with the freestanding fireplace, refitted for a gas thermostat control that helped remedy the poor insulation on that wall. It felt like something sturdy, lasting, hard to break. His was the only building on the block that had kept much of the original 1912 structure intact during renovation. It still felt like it had life to it, where most of the other buildings had been demolished, with massive modern things in their place.

It was same with some of the things in the thrift store he always passed on the way home. He’d gone inside occasionally, just to browse and see if anything interesting caught his eye, but most evenings he simply glanced at what was put in the window display and moved on.

This week, there was a gaudy silver Christmas tree with mismatched mittens and scarves for decoration, an olive green blender, several used toys, a chair that had been repainted a dozen times over, old musical instruments and an incomplete sets of champagne flutes among other knick-knacks. Someone had liked them well enough when they were new, at least for a while. Now they sat waiting to be noticed like an ugly old mongrel in the pound, passed by when everyone else has gone home. The idea was that maybe someone would come by and stop, and find that they still had life left in them after all.

Dom stopped in his tracks, brows knitting. His short-term memory latched on to something he’d thought he’d seen, almost like a ghost or premonition. Backtracking his steps to the display window, he stared behind the chair full of teddy bears, using a sleeve to rub the condensation of his breath from the window. His heart tripped as he shielded the streetlamp’s reflection, trying to get a better look.

Half-covered with a moth-eaten baby blanket in the corner sat an old, dusty, strangely familiar guitar.

“You wanna buy something, mister? I’m closing the till in a minute.”

Dom jerked up to see the spotty face of a bored looking teenager, surely hoping he’d be on his way so he could leave.

“That guitar in there. Can I see it?”

The kid waved him inside, climbing over a ratty sofa to retrieve it from the display. The neck clattered against the rungs of the chair and Dom winced, “Oi, careful! I want it to work.”

The kid paused, looking skeptically at the guitar before handing it over.

The guitar was of a red wood with a spidery grain. The gloss was faded and the ebony neck bore several nicks and scratches. It had only one loosened and kinked old string. Inside, a yellowed paper label bore a scrolling insignia and the maker’s name, Carlos Ramos, Barcelona, dated 1941. At the top of the neck were two holly leaves, one iridescent white and the other the dingy green of copper patina.

“Unbelievable,” Dom breathed, an awed smile stretching his face. This was Billy’s old guitar. This was the fabled Holly.

“Twenty-five bucks.”

Dom blinked. “What?”

“It’s twenty-five bucks,” said the kid, clearly in a hurry to close up and leave, as he rung it up. “Thirty dollars and eighty cents, with tax.”

Dom dug for his wallet, thumbing out the cash. “Have you got something I can put it in?”

The kid poked around behind the counter and came up with a black bin liner, which he tossed idly on the countertop. Dom eyed it with disdain, but shook it open and carefully pulled it up, tying it around the neck. _Only for a bit_.

“You know, you could go down to the guitar center at the mall and get brand new one for pretty cheap,” the kid told him, eyes taking in Dom’s suit and tie. “That old thing’s been sitting in here for years. Probably sounds like shit. We had a Fender Strat in here once, sold in like a week. Now _that_ was a guitar.”

Dom nodded, oblivious at the teenager’s suggestion while his receipt printed, and looked back down at the holly leaf inlay, pushing a thumb over the copper. “It isn’t for me. It belongs to someone I kn–“ Dom drew in a breath at his own words. “I used to know.”

“Whatever, man,” said the kid, punching buttons to close the till, watching with amusement as Dom shifted things back and forth for the easiest way to carry his briefcase, the food and the guitar all at once.

Once home, Dom unwrapped the instrument from its inadequate covering and propped it in the corner of his living room between a set of shelves and the fireplace. Bringing his take away and a beer to the coffee table, he ate his dinner, looking up occasionally at the strange treasure.

The guitar didn’t look quite right, just set in the corner like that, as though discarded. It would require a stand. There was the music store in the mall, but there was also the other one in Manhattan a block down from Mackie’s CD shop. He could get a quality stand there and perhaps inquire about a trustworthy place to possibly have it restored.

Dom put the paper tub down and took a swig of his beer, chuckling at himself. This was impossible. Maybe Billy had been wrong when he’d said it was one of a kind. He wondered if he looked up the maker’s name on the internet, he’d find another two hundred just like it.

But he didn’t want to doubt Billy, not on something he’d wrapped his life around for so long. No plant or chair or piece of art had looked right in that corner, flanked by a built-in bookshelf, a window and the fireplace. Now, humanized by a silly name and a mysterious past, Holly sat looking for all the world like she belonged there, filling a space that had been an empty eyesore from the start.

Dom threw away his mess, washed the remnants of sauce from his fingers and settled back on the couch with the guitar propped over his knees. The finish on the edges was dulled, but the face still glinted a little in the light. The useless string caught on his sleeve, adding more scratches to the ebony neck. He twisted the tuner experimentally, cringing at the grainy, rusty way it scraped along its screw threads. On top of that, the headstock wriggled, showing a crack where it attached at the neck. Someone had misused the guitar terribly in those fifteen years. It would have to be restored for Billy to play. Dom bitterly wondered if it could ever sound the way it was meant to again.

He stared down at the guitar on his lap. He was thinking as though he thoroughly expected Billy to come and claim it. Dom had not gone into that thrift store and dropped thirty dollars on a beat up old guitar for himself, nor did he even consider it his possession. It had always been meant for Billy in his mind. The old guitar maker surely had not intended such a beloved thing to be liquidated to any uncaring person’s possession when he died. Old Gavin would have wanted the guitar to be kept by someone who would care as deeply for it as Billy had. What right did he have to walk into that store and bring it home? How on earth had this particular guitar, the supposed one and only, turned up in a thrift shop in Queens?

Setting the guitar aside, he flipped on the television, clicking through each channel and then turning it off when nothing captured his attention. There was Monty Python, but he knew it by heart as it was. He got up and put his books back in order on the shelf, moving to his CD’s when he’d finished that. The guitar still sat idly propped on the arm of the sofa. The thermostat kicked to life as the temperature outside dropped, and the brief flare of the fireplace starting up threw a warm glow over the dull face of the guitar.

He went to his bedroom, pulling off his work clothes and scratching gel from his hair. It was short now, almost too short for his liking, but it had got rid of all the blonde ends that were left. Perhaps he’d grow it out dark next time.

His fingers tugged absently at the _Manaia_ around his neck, and then not so absently let go of it, forcing his mind in another direction. Digging through his drawers, he found a warm pair of flannel pajama bottoms and an old thick sweatshirt to wear. His head twinged a little, this time at the back of his skull, and he disdainfully eyed the prescription bottle on the nightstand. It never seemed to do much good to take them and so he picked it up and put it back in the bathroom cabinet. When he came back out to the living room, the guitar was still there.

Eyes straying from the guitar to his desk and back, he sighed, kneaded at the ache in his nape and let himself give in.

The tin was kept on his desk in the living room next to the post basket and the computer, where it looked both unassuming and unimportant. The idea was to keep Dom from thinking it was either of those things, but of course it didn’t always work so well. The tin had come with a watch he’d bought, the sort of useless thing meant to store the watch, in case one was the sort who could be bothered to have a half a dozen tins around to store cheap timepieces. He opened it and took out the small twisted greenstone, holding it in his fist so it warmed. Beneath the stone were three postcards, two slips of yellowed paper and one cocktail napkin. He plucked out the topmost postcard, folded into quarters like the others so it would fit into the small box. Sitting in his desk chair with the cord of the pendant tangled in his fingers, he slowly unfolded it.

The words could still send his heart rate up.

  


  
At first he’d been angry. He wanted to let it all go. He wanted them both to live their own lives, and to remember their time together as something of a refuge. To Dom it was something to call up any time things became too hectic. It was a way of grounding himself to think that somewhere at any given moment, Billy might just be thinking about it at the same time, and time would slow to a stop again.

He’d looked at the postcard many times since. Focused on certain words until his eyes crossed. _If you ask me, I’ll come. Just call._ He’d memorized the number, sometimes seeing parts of it in license plates or on billboards. There were songs Dom hadn’t stopped hearing since he came home. They haunted him. Over the loudspeaker in Bloomingdale’s when he splurged on the coat, it had been Tony Bennett. In the lift at the high rise where he’d interviewed a parent, it was Clapton. It was the Nina Simone compilation album that hadn’t left his stereo since he saw it on the sale rack for a pathetic five dollars, where Dom chided the poor stupid bastard who passed her by. It was Bobby Darin on commercials for a cruise line on the television, which had very nearly caused Dom to lose a thumb the first time it came on when he was chopping vegetables for supper.

Thoughts of the postcard came up at the most inopportune times, writing reports or meeting with superiors, disorienting him and stalling his mind. He could deny it to Sean all he liked, but in truth, Billy strayed into his thoughts all the time.

Billy had promised to take care of Elijah, and to help him sort out what he wanted to do with his life, and to encourage his potential. Dom accepted what he thought was inevitable; that the two of them would be together, take comfort in each other in any way comfort was needed. Elijah had been there first, and he knew Billy cared deeply for the boy. His twelve days with Billy had been a whirlwind, but it had blown itself out.

But Billy had also promised to find that old guitar. The one that was sitting on Dom’s sofa right now.

 _You make your own fate_ , he had said. Billy did not make promises lightly, nor did he break them without serious intent. A promise was a choice in a certain direction to Billy. He’d made a promise and left Dom the choice, reopened the window Dom had carefully painted shut because he was a fucking coward, too afraid to let in something new, something that had the potential to disrupt his whole way of life.

And the thing was, Dom had had a taste of what he’d decided somewhere along the line that he couldn’t have. Every time Dom had chosen a path in his life, he was left wondering about the other fork. Just like anyone, he wondered about the What If’s. And every time he zoned out in a review, or saw part of that phone number on the side of a bus, he caught himself wondering. _What if I call? It’s already been six months, maybe he’s forgotten. Maybe the number doesn’t even work. How long would he wait? Would he really come? Would he want to come here for me? Everything would change._

Dom glanced up from the postcard again, at the guitar sitting like a presence in his living room. It only had one string, no voice at all, useless and abused for long years. The guitar did not belong to him, but it was here in his home nonetheless, where it would not be put to its full potential. Billy would be left seeking it for who knew how long, never to find it unless... unless...

The clock in the kitchen ticked in the heavy silence, resolutely taking away the hours and days and months.

He unconsciously brought his hand to his mouth in thought, the pendant now a node of heat in his palm. A moment later he jerked it away as though stung. For just a split second, he’d had another déjà vu, an almost too real reminder of a time long past.

Hesitantly, he pressed he greenstone’s cord back under his nose and inhaled. It smelled faintly of almond soap, of salt and of Billy, sending a sharp ache of longing through his core.

Everything had changed already. It was a matter of trusting that change could be for the better, and maybe even indulging in just a little bit of selfishness. Dom put the postcard down and picked up the phone.

“Sean? Mate, I think I may not make it to work tomorrow after all. Yeah, you wouldn’t believe… bad curry.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The future is not set.

_August 26th, Saturday  
Queens, NYC  
6:41 am_

Dominic apprehensively paced back and forth before a row of plastic seats. It was absurdly early for a Saturday morning, but he’d hardly slept as it was, too wound up with second guessing himself. More precisely, he was somewhere around the five hundredth guess by now. He glanced up at the console again. The flight was on time, just as it had been the last time he checked it. It was on time and it was suppose to be here twenty minutes ago.

Billy was here.

The thought hit him again like someone might have told him fairies existed. He sat down on the edge of a chair, twisting his rings and cracking his knuckles until they wouldn’t crack anymore. It just seemed so unbelievable that Dom could call a phone number, and Billy would come. Just like that.

A woman had answered the line, not Billy. _Weta Industries, how may I direct your call?_ By itself that had startled him almost enough to hang up. Then again, he wondered what he’d have done if it had been Billy on the other end, with that unmistakable voice he’d not heard for months, except in fitful dreams. What on earth would he have said? If he’d paused long enough to even think about it while his fingers punched out the phone number, he would have lost his nerve. The woman had taken down his name and number, saying she would tell Billy he had called, and that had been the end of it.

It seemed so inconsequential at the time that he’d ended up taking a painkiller for his headache after all and gone to bed, worn out from the day’s work and too much thinking. In the morning, he’d called in with a load of rubbish about bad curry, imagining the bullshit look on Cate’s face as he rung off. Afterwards, he dressed and headed down to the coffee shop. There had been a tray full of cinnamon sticky buns, and on a whim he’d bought one for breakfast. It was when he’d dug in his pockets for extra change that he realized he’d forgotten his phone, left it on the desk after making that call. But it was a nice, brisk morning and Sean’s suggestion of going out to enjoy himself had him on the train to Manhattan, the phone be damned. He was “sick”, and he was taking full advantage.

But there was a voice message waiting when he’d returned home, the same woman’s Kiwi lilt informing him that Billy was on the next flight out and relaying pertinent information. It had all been so business-like he hadn’t quite believed it. He listened to it over and over again, scribbling the airline and flight number into his hand with a ballpoint pen, and Billy’s name most of all, scratched over and over across the tendons in thick blue ink.

Now waiting in the airport, he glanced at the writing on his skin once again, smeared from his own nervous fidgeting. They’d not even spoken, talked this thing over. He’d called and Billy was on his way, and that was it.

Another crowd of people barraged the hallway and Dom’s heart clattered in his chest. With a restrained giggle, he imagined Billy walking up in his fuck off tuxedo and shiny wingtips, as though he’d break into song right there in the middle of Terminal Five of JFK Airport, with half the city of New York watching. Ridiculous romantic stupid sexy infectious Billy.

His heart gave a little flutter again. Billy came here for him, no questions asked.

 _I’ve lost my bloody mind_ , he thought to himself for the hundredth time. What if it was a mistake? What would they do if they tried this thing and it didn’t work? What if it was all meant to stay down there in New Zealand and be a good memory and just exist in the past?

Christ. He’d spent all day and night in this state, in between foreboding terror and childish giddiness. The last few minutes were going to push him off his end.

He paced down the long hallway, eyes searching people and faces in earnest, nerves in a tangled knot in his throat. His eyes crawled over bodies for anything distinguishably Billy, seeing a man in a knit cap, another in a tan jacket, a hard guitar case slung over a shoulder and a shock of ginger hair….

“BILLY BOYD!” The words left him without permission to be quite so obnoxiously loud, but the man with the guitar case turned around.

He was smiling.

“Billy,” Dom whispered, now just to himself, feeling his own smile return it, because when had that smile ever stopped being contagious? Still, he was frozen to the spot in the middle of a terminal hallway, people and baggage moving past in a blur, with Billy walking slowly toward him, casual as anything.

“Hello, Dominic.”

Dom didn’t trust himself to speak, so he just nodded. Billy looked different. He was not wearing the tux, of course, but jeans and a plain T-shirt with a heavier button-down over top, carrying only a rucksack and the guitar case. His face was scruffy and his hair no longer the tight, neat clip of a lounge act, but ragged enough to curl slightly over his forehead and around his ears. But his eyes were exactly the same, soft coppery green, catching the sunlight through the windows and effortlessly holding Dom captive.

“The silent treatment then, is it?” Billy asked with a wry twist to his smile, “I spend twenty hours on a plane and you’ve nothing to say to me, save announcing me to the whole international terminal?”

Dom laughed a little breathlessly, “I… I don’t know what to say yet. I’m… Your hair is long.”

Billy chuckled, “Yours isn’t, anymore.” He reached up to pull gently on a gelled tendril at Dom’s temple. His index finger slid down the sideburn and jaw, making Dom’s eyes drift closed for a moment, tilting automatically into the touch. Billy’s real touch, not imagined or dreamt.

“You’re here.”

“Aye, I am.”

Dom blinked, struggling to find words. This was not what he’d expected. He didn’t know what he expected. This was back to one second at a time, as suddenly as Billy had walked right back into his life. This was Billy’s hands on him again, the touch that had made him feel like he was worth something, like he was wanted. He’d spent the last twenty hours trying to think of what on earth he would have to say to Billy, and had come up utterly blank.

“Can we go?” Billy asked, an edge of desperation in his voice that Dom could feel too. He nodded, taking the rucksack from him and leading Billy through the massive airport and back to the subway entrance before he could let his mouth run and start asking stupid questions. They weren’t going to discuss this right here in the terminal if he could help it.

Dom paid the metro fare for both of them, found two seats together at the back of a car, and tucked Billy’s bag into his lap. Billy propped the guitar case on the floor between his knees and slumped against him. Dom turned his head and inhaled the smell of Billy’s hair, real and tangible and warm against his shoulder. It didn’t smell like almonds anymore, but something basic and clean.

Billy’s hand slid into his, releasing an airy chuckle as his fingers traced over his own name smudged thickly into the skin on the back of Dom’s hand. Dom grinned at his own impatience, now that it got down to the fact that Billy was here, _right here_ , with him again. He squeezed Billy’s fingers and they squeezed back.

There was always a point of contact between them as they changed trains and emerged up into the chilly bright morning in Dom’s neighborhood, whether it was Dom’s hand possessively on Billy’s shoulder, or Billy’s gripping his sleeve, as though any sort of separation would cause another rift.

As soon as the door was shut, locked and he had made sure the guitar case was on firm ground, Dom turned, cupped Billy’s face in two hands and kissed him soundly. It was the way he’d initiated the whole damned thing in the first place, just like this, and the taste and feeling and warmth was exactly what he’d been missing for far too long. Billy made a soft noise, a little whimper that shot straight through every part of Dom’s body. It was Billy pushing him back to lean against the front door, firmly pressed from chest to knees. He tasted of nothing but himself, his mouth soft and wanting against Dom’s, tongues tentatively becoming reacquainted. Dom’s arms circled his waist to keep him close, a sound of joy and relief leaving his throat. Billy was really, truly here, in his house, for him. It couldn’t get any more surreal.

Billy finally pulled back and looked at him, heavy eyes darting between his own, breath unsteady. Then he pitched forward slowly, squinching his face as his forehead fell to Dom’s chin, “I’m _so_ tired, Dommeh,” he mumbled apologetically.

Dom gaped for just a moment, then threw his head back and laughed, smiling broadly. “Come on, then.”

He took Billy to his bedroom and sat him on the edge of the mattress, pulling off his shoes and socks, followed by his shirt and trousers and tucked him in under thick covers. “Gets cold in here sometimes,” he said. Billy hummed in response, eyes already losing their battle to stay open. Dom made to pull away but Billy’s grip on his hand was insistent.

“Don’t leave.”

Dom crawled up and over to lie on the other side of him without letting go. “Not leaving. You’re here, Billy,” he whispered. Billy’s mouth turned up into a contented smile. Within minutes he fell deeply asleep.

For moments or hours, an unimportant loss of time, Dom simply stared, drinking in the sight of Billy in his own house, his own bed. _Our bed_. Billy’s side the same side he’d taken before in their room on the Kismet. Billy had an overbite, and as his breathing deepened, it began to whistle just slightly. Billy had big biceps and small hands with calloused fingers. His hair was sweaty and messy, his eyes shadowed, the skin around them etched with tiny lines. He was flawed, used up, washed out and imperfect. But he was here.

Dom wouldn’t have him any other way.

  
 _1:37pm_

  
When Dom woke, Billy was still completely out. He’d turned on his side, nose burrowed into the pillow Dom used rather than the one meant for him, arm thrown over Dom’s torso. The flat was utterly quiet, only the sound of the kitchen clock, the cars on the street below, and Billy’s softly muffled snores.

Dom lay still, watching the man beside him. The last person Dom had fallen asleep with was the same one, and he’d indulged in watching him sleep back then too. But this was different, because it was in the place Dom had called home for years instead of pristine suite with bright new sheets and dusting to erase any history of the day before. He had not changed these sheets for a week or two, and there was a pile of dirty laundry on the floor beside the hamper. There were bills and papers cluttering his desk, and used dishes in the sink. Dom knew he leaned a bit on the compulsive side of things, but cleanliness wasn’t one of them. His flat had been lived in and dirtied, with no one to erase the past but him.

Carefully, he slipped from under Billy’s hold and off the bed, putting the laundry in the hamper before moving out to the living room.

The old guitar sat on a stand he’d made the trip to out Manhattan to get. He’d also purchased a lint free cloth and following the merchant’s instruction, carefully inched that old string off so it couldn’t do any more damage, rubbing the whole thing down to remove the dust and fingerprints. He didn’t dare try anything else on his own, only set the instrument on the stand in the corner by the bookshelves.

For a while, Dom stood at the window, gazing up at the blank grey sky above the buildings. He felt like he’d made some massive leap, but it was stalled in the middle, paused like a old video with static lines over the picture. He couldn’t even begin to think of a future with Billy because it was something by default he had absolutely refrained from through his whole vacation. Even when he’d gone too far in, when he’d begun to think he wanted it, he had not even indulged the thought that Billy would come all the way here. The farthest he’d let it go was to joke about Billy meeting Sean. It had worried him a little at the time, but then it had been dismissed as casually as it had come.

Now it was a very real possibility. Tonight for dinner, as it happened. Dom reached for the mobile on his desk, hitting the speed dial.

“Y’ello.”

“Sean, listen…”

“Nothing of consequence happened at work, Dommie, I promise.”

“…Oh. Right. Erm…”

“ _Right_? Are you okay?” Sean asked, concern in his voice. “You sound weird. Are you really sick?”

Dom was speaking in an abnormally quiet voice, but he wasn’t about to stop now. “Fine, Sean, I’m fine. D’you you think…. Would you and Chris mind if I brought someone with me to dinner tonight?”

“’Course not. Who?”

“Ah. Just a bloke I… kind of know from… met him at… erm.” Dom trailed off, knowing Sean wasn’t going to buy a word of this. “A friend.”

There was a very long pause from Sean’s end, and then a chuckle. “Well, fuck me. I didn’t think you’d ever make that call.”

Dom knitted his brows. “What? How did y–? I don’t know what you’re on about.”

“Fuck’s sake, Dominic, you come home from vacation looking more lost than I left you. Any time you get soused, you bring up that lounge singer romeo like a lovesick puppy, and then I find that box on your desk with love letters and a necklace I’ve never seen you wear. Dumbshit. Would you actually ask my permission bring any one else over besides this guy?”

Dom gaped at the phone, and at his desk, where the tin was properly stashed and looking harmless. “You… I… You sticky-fingered absolute fucking cunt, Sean.”

“I know you better than you know yourself, and what I don’t know I will happily snoop around for when you’re not looking,” Sean was happy to confirm.

“I’m going to buy your girls lockable diaries when they’re teenagers, you know. Don’t put it past me.” Dom’s hands found the tin, pulling it open to hold the pendant again.

“It is the same guy, right? From the cruise? He’s flying out?”

Dom lowered his voice again, pocketing the greenstone. “He’s here. He’s asleep, and you can fucking well wait till tonight to meet him too, so don’t go thinking you’re going to come round and ask him twenty questions any time before then. I want at least a few hours of him to myself.”

“All right, all right,” Sean laughed. “I’ll tell Chris to make extra. She’s thinking stroganoff.”

“Fantastic.” Dom peeked back in the bedroom where Billy had hardly moved, but to pull Dom’s pillow entirely into his arms and snuggle bodily against it. Dom’s heart lurched at the sight and he bit his lip against the smile.

“Still there?” Sean asked, a grin in his voice, “He hasn’t vanished yet?”

Dom chuckled around a whisper, “Yeah.”

He continued to gaze through the bedroom door, leaning against the frame to stare his fill. The thought arose that it if Billy was here and this was all for real, this was a vision that wouldn’t disappear at a predefined date. He would see it often. Every day. Every night. It was something he’d never take for granted again.

Sean cleared his throat, still holding the line. “So, he’s worth it?” he asked, quietly, all joking aside.

“I love him, Sean,” Dom murmured down the phone. “I love him so much it hurts to breathe.”

The admission was staggering, even as he spoke the words. He didn’t quite know what to think, except it was a truth he’d denied himself all these months, something putting a name just now had opened up a whole new world full of choices to explore together. It was bloody terrifying, but this time it didn’t feel like fear and cowardice. It felt enormous and uncontained and wonderful.

“Yeah,” Sean answered fondly, “It’s about time too. You’re such an idiot, Dommie. You know that, right?”

“I suppose you’ll remind me if I forget,” Dom grinned, pressing his forehead against the cool doorframe.

“You know you can count on me,” Sean affirmed. “See you both tonight.”

Dom rung off and took a few slow breaths, in and out. Billy shifted in the bed, beginning to wake. He remembered that when Billy woke, he liked tea, and turned to the kitchen to put the kettle on. Billy liked tea with milk, which had Dom checking to be sure he had milk that wasn’t past its date.

The flush of the toilet let him know Billy had found the bathroom, and he resisted going back into the bedroom by reading the back of the tea tin. His nervousness was resurfacing now that Billy was awake, like someone had hit ‘play’ again, after he’d come to a profound revelation about the story.

Bill wandered out of the bedroom in bare feet, in his jeans and T-shirt. His hair stuck up in different directions on one side and was plastered down on the other. He looked completely bowled over, and Dom couldn’t look hard enough.

“Tea, Bill?”

Billy nodded, sitting at Dom’s little-used dining room table with a heavy plop, hands scratching at the short scruff on his cheeks. Dom poked around in a drawer until he found the aspirin, and pressed two into Billy’s palm and pulled the other chair around to sit close.

Billy downed the medicine with a gulp of tea and set the mug down, scrubbing at his face with both hands. “Wanna go back to sleep.”

“You shouldn’t, so you’ll sleep tonight.”

“Keep me awake, then,” Billy mumbled, shooting him a half-arsed grin while rubbing at an eye with the heel of his palm.

Dom grinned back behind his own cup, “You’d drop right off again after.”

“Not a bad idea at all, f’you want my opinion.”

“I know, but I want you awake for a bit,” Dom answered. Setting his tea down, he stood and turned Billy on his chair so he could reach his back, kneading tense neck and shoulder muscles through the thin cotton. “We’re having supper at Sean’s, if that’s all right.”

Billy hummed in response, sipping more tea as Dom massaged away the plane seats and hours and tension.

Dom didn’t deny it to himself now. He was enthralled by Billy, really here under his hands once again. He could smell the warm scent of his hair. He could see his own breath ruffling the thin curls on Billy’s scalp, fingers drawn to stroke through small, loose curls at his nape. His hands traced familiar paths, broad shoulders, and large biceps. He could hardly stop touching, now that he could.

“No horses,” Billy said abruptly.

“What?”

Billy tilted his head up, a little smile there. “I remember about the horses. You said Sean’s girl likes them.”

Dom grinned broadly and stroked his hands over collarbones. “No horses. Just dinner. And I’ll murder Sean if he interrogates you.”

Billy hummed again and leaned back against Dom, stretching like a kitten.

“What happened, Bill?” he asked. “After I left?”

“What happened to what?”

“Everything. Everyone. The boat, the crew… Everything.”

Billy tilted his head back to look up at him with a grin. “The boat? She sailed away.”

“Without you?” Dom sat back down so he could see Billy’s face.

“Me, Lij, Bean. Lots of people,” Billy affirmed. “Bean and Miranda went to her parent’s home in Melbourne. The line offered me salary and the stateroom to stay. Turned them down. Liv took my place.”

Billy gazed at his mug, swirling it gently. “Lij and I went back to Pete’s. We finished that playhouse for the kids, you remember? It has a round door, Dom. Most pain in the arse piece of carpentry I’ve ever done, but we did it.”

“What about Elijah?” Dom asked, a little hesitant. He had asked Billy to watch over him. “Where is he now?”

Billy gave him a smile. “He’s fine, Dommeh. He’s working for Pete, as long as he wants. If he wants to come home, Pete will fly him out. And he may, now I’ve… now that you…” he stopped and didn’t finish, flushing just a little and turning his eyes back to his tea.

Dom nodded his okay at this course of events. He actually hoped the kid would decide to come back home one day, maybe even live here in the city, and found himself already making plans in Elijah’s favour. Mackie had that free room in his flat, and he did always need knowledgeable help in the CD shop…

“Expensive plane ticket,” he commented absently. He still had his reservations about this Pete character.

“Pete doesn’t mind. He paid my way as well. He’s got a close connection in the travel industry out here.” Billy looked up at him again, “Pete’s a good man, Dommeh. True to his word, no matter what. Speaking of that, Katie asked about you.”

Breath catching, Dom swallowed against the wave of guilt that struck him, “Did she?”

“She asked me why the Dragonfly Man didn’t come back.”

Dom flushed scarlet, oddly pleased and yet upset that she remembered so well. “What… what did you say?”

Billy reached out and tugged on the _Manaia_ pendant hanging from his neck. “I said that he had to go help other kids not be afraid, but he was sorry he didn’t say goodbye.”

Dom fidgeted, unsure of what to say. Billy had done his job for him. He’d taken one worry away. Perhaps that was the space in Dom’s life he needed to fill.

“Thank you,” he whispered to his knees.

Billy touched his arm for a moment in answer and stood. Dom trailed after, watching as Billy got his bearings, taking in the dining room, poking around the small kitchenette. He peeked into the closet that held the washer and dryer, glanced around the living room, then back into the bedroom and bathroom before coming out again. “’S nice. Huge.”

Dom laughed. His place wasn’t big by a long shot, but Billy had not had anything to call his own but a single room for years. Dom’s renovated flat would seem luxurious after that long. But a moment later, Billy’s hand had gone to the back of his neck, mussing the already matted curls there, his face growing tight and frown lines deepening.

“What’s wrong, Bill?”

“I…” Billy didn’t look at him, but back around the house nervously. “I can pay my own way, Dom. I’ll get a job.”

Dom shook his head to dismiss this, but Billy wasn’t looking.

“I can do lots of different work, and I can pay my half, or I’ll get out of your hair if you want–“

“Billy–“

“I’ll get a flat somewhere, or rent out a room, and I can–”

“Would you shut it?” Dom reached out a hand to touch him, get his attention, and had to kiss him then. Had to gather him up and close and taste and touch. He tasted of tea and milk, and Dom could get used to the longer hair, as nicely as his fingers slid through it. When they parted, Billy was smiling brightly.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Dom murmured against his cheek, his own grin so insistent it hurt his cheeks.

”Me either,” Billy fidgeted as Dom’s breath tickled, “I just didn’t know if… if you wanted to take things slow or…”

Dom drew him back in and kissed him with closed lips and open eyes. “You just got here. You’re exhausted, and you’ve not eaten. If you think I’m punting you out in the morning to earn your pay, you’re cracked.”

Billy bit his lip to suppress his smile.

Dom turned him around so he could see the flat, _their_ flat, and enveloped him from behind, dizzy with happiness. Billy was here, in his arms, where he belonged.

“You can take your time, find a job you like. What do you think, hmm? You showed me your world, and now I show you mine?” he murmured, pressing his nose behind Billy’s hair and nuzzling, waiting for an answer that never came. “Bill?” It was then that he noticed that Billy had gone absolutely still, staring straight ahead into the living room.

 _Finally_. Dom smiled again, loosening his hold. He wanted to burn this moment into his memory, see every reaction. Billy had spotted the old guitar.

When at last Billy moved forward, Dom followed him, settling himself at one end of the sofa as Billy stopped and stood in front of the guitar, kneeling down on the carpet to look closer.

Dom was fascinated. Billy treated the old guitar like a relic in a museum. He examined it from every available angle, bending close to the inlay as though it might change before his eyes, breathing harder as he read the label inside. His fingers twitched at his sides, but did not touch.

After many minutes had passed, Billy came to sit next to Dom on the sofa, still staring at the guitar in the corner, saying nothing. His mouth was pursed as if to speak, but no sound came.

Dom spoke instead, keeping his voice low and quiet. “I found it Thursday night in a thrift store window that I’ve walked passed every day for years. It had been there for ages, and I never thought to look twice, until the other day.”

Billy only nodded mutely, eyes still fixed on the guitar.

“I almost walked by it again, because I’d just got take-away and had a shite day at work and I was just thinking of getting home, but,” Dom looked at him, “But I was thinking of you too. And I remembered that you told me to stop sometimes.”

A smile rose on Billy’s mouth, and Dom shook his head, bemused, “How’s that for fate, eh? The two of us thinking the whole idea of it is bollocks.”

“It is,” Billy said, glancing over at him and then back to the guitar. “It still is.”

Dom looked at the man beside him. He spent six months stewing in his decision to walk away. He’d found the guitar, yes. He had found it, not Billy, by whatever bizarre coincidence. Maybe some called that fate, but it came back to the point that he had a choice. All he had to do was call, but he’d not thrown caution to the winds until he’d seen the guitar in a thrift store window.

Dom looked at the guitar for a few minutes with Billy, and suddenly remembering what else he’d done the previous day, he pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket. “I got the names of a few people who do restoration, one in Manhattan and a few others outside of the city. We could give them a call Monday–“

“No.” Billy shook his head, still staring back at the instrument.

“But… why?”

“Sometimes you can’t undo the past, Dommeh. Even if you think you should try.” Bill blinked and looked away from the guitar to meet Dom’s eyes.

Dom looked down at his hands. “I don’t understand, but if that’s what you want…”

“It’s just a guitar, Dommeh.” Bill said, though his tone betrayed that it wasn’t _just_ any old guitar. “And besides, if it’s to be restored, I think… I think I want to do it.”

Smiling softly, Dom squeezed his fingers around Billy’s. “Whatever you want, Bills.” This time, the slip of the tongue was on purpose, because Dom liked thinking he had a nickname just for his exclusive use.

Billy looked back at the guitar, chewing on his lip. He was clearly overwhelmed and maybe a bit afraid of all this change. Dom could see it in every inch of his body. And it was no wonder, really. He just flown around the world far enough that he’d start back again if he went much farther. He’d woke in a strange flat, in a city that could disarm even the most confident person, in a country he’d never been. He’d just found one of his heart’s deepest desires, material and sentimental though an old vintage guitar may be. Dom hoped he wasn’t too far thunderstruck, because he was about to lay another big one on him.

He looped an arm around and pulled Billy in close, free hand brushing through his hair, tracing his nose, down the line beside his mouth and tucked a knuckle under his chin to bring Billy’s eyes to his. “I’m so in love with you.”

Billy’s drawn face lit with a flushed glow, biting his lip against a smile. “Are you?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“You’re sure on that?”

Dom dug his free hand in his pocket and withdrew the twist of greenstone.

“You kept it!” Billy murmured in delight.

“I wasn’t going to throw it away,” Dom countered with a chuckle, then lowered his head so Billy could slip the cord over and settle the pendant just above the _Manaia_ he already wore.

Billy pressed his hand over it as he’d done before, though the stone was already warm, and flicked his fiery gaze up to meet Dom’s. “So. Have I made my feelings entirely plain, or do you need to be told why I still ask you to keep this for me?”

Dom leaned closer, the corners of his mouth turning up. “You know how I worry if I’m not absolutely certain of things, Bills.”

“All the reason for you to keep it.” Billy’s answering smile faded to a fundamental need that could no longer be held back. “Christ, Dom, I love you so fucking much.”

The kissing hadn’t been entirely forgotten, but memories had a habit of fading until individual nerves were reminded of what they were missing. Dom had not forgot that Billy had an overbite, but he didn’t remember that his teeth bit down _just so_ , or that he rumbled deep in his throat, or that his fingers would stroke Dom just behind the ears in a way that made him absolutely shiver.

“I may need to hear that again,” Dom murmured between kisses, “Just to be sure.”

“Then I’ll remind you often, you complete fuckwit,” Billy laughed gently against his jaw. “Every day. Every night. I can sing it to you, and write you shite poetry, and whisper it against your skin, while you’re awake this time.”

“Did you really…?” Dom gasped, seeking Billy’s eyes.

“I did. I hoped you heard me at least once.”

“You are insufferable, Boyd.”

“You’re going to suffer me then, lad,” Billy gave him a feral grin, begging another kiss as he growled against Dom’s mouth, “You’d better believe I won’t let you walk away from me again.”

As hours past, Dom had slid down to lie against the sofa’s arm with Billy atop him, content to lazily kiss and be kissed for the next stretch of forever if possible. Eventually Billy pulled his mouth away and pillowed his head on Dom’s shoulder, turned in the direction of the guitar.

“Monday’s my birthday,” he commented randomly.

“Shite, really?” Dom giggled. “And to think I didn’t get you anything.”

Billy kissed his jaw, “I think I got more than I bargained for.”

“You’ve no idea,” Dom purred, carding his whole hand through that soft ginger hair.

“Have you started planning another trip?” Billy asked.

Pressing his lips to Billy’s forehead, Dom grinned, “Such a gypsy, Bills. No, I haven’t, but perhaps we’ll go somewhere together, hmm? We can save up and then see what happens when our little dream holiday doesn’t go according to plan.”

“Long as you don’t wander off for a long fucking think the next time, storyteller.”

Dom laughed and pushed him off to stretch, swinging his legs to the floor. Billy sat close beside him, staring at the guitar in the corner once again, as though if he stopped, it would disappear.

“It’s yours now,” Dom murmured. “You can touch it, if you want.”

Billy nodded almost absently and then shook his head. “No… I… it’s enough. Right there. For now.”

“Okay,” Dom affirmed, slipping his hand into Billy’s on his knee. _For now_. Later on, much could happen. Not all of it would be easy. Dom could think ahead, plan out the future, but it wouldn't always turn out the way he wanted it to. Monday morning, Billy’s birthday no less, Dom would have to go back to work. There would be another walk away, but he’d have to trust that Billy would be there when he came home. He’d have to trust that there was a future here with Billy in it. It was the present he was never so sure of.

“Billy?” Dom asked hesitantly, “What… what happens now?”

“Are you doubting me already?” Billy’s attention shifted fully back to him. Smile softening, he stroked his fingers softly over Dom’s cheek, “Now, my Dominic, we start this. We start over.”

 **THE END**


End file.
